


Mirror

by FED_NS, orphan_account



Series: Mirror [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Dursley Family (Harry Potter), Angst, BAMF Harry Potter, Dark Harry, Dark Harry Potter, Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Harry Potter, Drama, Gen, Harry Potter & Severus Snape Friendship, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Headmaster Severus Snape, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Legilimency, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Occlumency, Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Post-Hogwarts, Powerful Harry, Powerful Harry Potter, Professor Harry Potter, Super!Potter, Time Travel, Wandless Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:39:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 102,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24202201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FED_NS/pseuds/FED_NS, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The war is over, but not all enemies are defeated. Strange things start to happen around Harry and those who are close to him, and once again he must step forward to fight.Who are they? What do they want? Why are they doing this? Many questions, but no answers.Super!Potter. Snape's alive. Abuse. Post-canon.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Dudley Dursley & Harry Potter, Dudley Dursley/Original Female Character(s), Harry Potter & Ron Weasley & Hermione Granger & Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter & Severus Snape, Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger & Severus Snape
Series: Mirror [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1840168
Comments: 57
Kudos: 91





	1. Again

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** the stupidest thing really, since it's fanfiction and on the fanfiction website… So not a word about it anymore.
> 
>  **Author's note:** There isn't much to say really. I became crazy about Snape-mentor fics lately, but that's not it. Something similar, I guess. I'm trying to keep very close to canon but still can make mistakes in that matter. And I will definitely make tons of all kinds of errors because I'm only trying to learn English. So sorry about that.
> 
> I hope you all will like and enjoy my story.
> 
>  **AN FROM AUG 26:**  
>  There's a side-story for this fic. It is called 'Mirror: the war', and it's about Harry's school years. A background of sorts :)  
> I work on them both at the same time. Be so kind and check it out if you're interested!
> 
>  **AN FROM NOV 10:**  
>  Hey, guys! I'm in dire need of a good beta...  
> I realize (and always have) that my grammar is abysmal. I'm doing everything I can to find and correct all mistakes, but since I'm not a native English speaker, it's an awfully hard task for me... So if you are a beta, or you know someone who is, and willing to help me with both stories, please, contact me! I'd be very very VERY grateful!

# Again

**_Two weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts_ **

How did he even let that happened… Who could've thought? He lost any remaining shreds of control over the situation. Unbelievable.

Severus Tobias Snape stood in the middle of the courtroom in the Ministry of Magic. The Chair, from which he miraculously escaped for the first time and the annoyingly same way now, unpleasantly touched his shin sending creeps up through the spine and to the end of every nerve. People were swarming around: some were gathering parchments, some — talking in low voices, others were slowly heading to the exit, but each and every one of them was dutifully throwing him and his unexpected defender unclear or pitiful glances.

It's over. Everything is over, once and for all. Except for the misty future, the darkness of the memories and icy sensation on the wrists from the chains, burnt through sleeves of Severus' black robes. It'd be better if he were simply sent to Azkaban, where he could finally find the peace he was so longing for years by getting lost within the abyss of his despair.

How stupid.

Snape stood rooted to the spot, from head to toe smeared with pity and compassion of quick prying eyes sliding all over him, and without any idea what to do next. All his life he was hiding from people, afraid, that they won't accept him as did his father, most of his classmates, acquaintances, and strangers now and during childhood. Even if they didn't confront him openly, they always bypassed him. Always. _'Old friends'_ didn't count, and Lily…

Make a note: do not think of Lily ever again.

And now, thanks to that upstart, her precious son…

"Ahem, Professor… Professor Snape."

The painfully familiar voice thundered in his head, snapping reality back on place. Severus blinked bewilderedly and turned his head towards the sound, unpleased that someone dared to interrupt his train of thoughts. No one is allowed to do such a thing.

"Mr. Potter?" he replied begrudgingly. A wave of usual hostility rolled up to the throat ready to sloosh the arrogant brat with yet another portion of mud, but… Did Severus even have a right for that little guilty pleasure after everything done and said? Snape burst open his soul for the child, showed something he never showed anyone, counting on the well-known fact that at least one of them, or most likely they both, would not live long enough to see next dawn. But the damn 'miracle' happened, and last two weeks Severus spent waiting in silent horror when Potter, blinded by even greater hatred towards him, would finally squelch said soul into dust. But the boy was, obviously, unaware of such expectations.

The piercing green eyes, shamelessly scanning his face, were confusing. There was something behind them... Something unnerving that Severus couldn't quite place, like the boy tried to reach a consensus with himself, but was unable to do so. Or maybe it just seemed that way.

"I just… um…"

For a few heavy heartbeats, the echoing silence hung between them. They stood in a frozen world looking into each other's eyes, struggling to find some sort of confirmation of their thoughts in them. Both realized that from That Day _,_ everything had changed, turned upside down, and there's no clinging to the settled past anymore. The balance was lost. Changes — unavoidable. Was there any point in postponing the worst? _Pull it out sharply, like a bad tooth, without thinking…_

"I suppose we need to talk. Calm and thorough," finally said Snape.

"Agreed."

… _and get this over with._

After exiting on the sunny street, where the public entrance to the Ministry was, Harry stopped, took one quick look at his companion, and mutely held out his left hand. Also silently, Snape slightly grabbed the offered forearm and took a deep breath. Next second the world sucked in with a loud thud and succumbed to the too-familiar suffocating void.

The first place to speak _calm and thorough_ that entered Harry's mind was his godfather's house, and now his own, of course — 12 Grimmauld Place. Due to the last autumn's habit, he apparated right on the porch though there wasn't any necessity in that anymore. The street was empty. Snape immediately yanked back his hand and was staring at the door with a blank expression on the face. He didn't really care where Potter took him. He started regretting his rash decision to talk from the moment those words slipped his lips. Too late now. What exactly could he tell the boy? What do they say in such cases anyway?

Harry jerked the doorknob and confidently stepped inside towards the welcoming spells that Moody once placed there and which Potter had no intention to remove, for now at least, for the sake of the memory of the old auror. Harry was slightly worried about Snape's reaction, but the man was so deep in thoughts that he wouldn't notice if the whole house suddenly crushed right down on his head. Or maybe he just pretended to be so unaware of his surroundings.

The two of them proceeded to the kitchen and took opposite seats at the table as far from each other as possible.

"Professor, sir…" Potter started.

"And what, pray tell, happened with 'Severus'?" Snape shot sharply, defiantly raising an eyebrow.

Harry fell silent, trying to find proper words. He knew he was being provoked to start a fight, and he could see Snape's reason for doing so but wasn't going to allow himself to be dragged to another pointless bickering, no matter how uncomfortable any of them might feel. He was determined to have only civil conversations with his former professor from now on.

"I am sorry, sir. But you have to understand, it was a certain moment back there, so…"

Yes, it undoubtedly was quite a moment…

Before 12 Grimmauld Place became the headquarters of the Order of the Fenix and was simply a noble and ancient house of the old and respected pure-blood family such as Blacks, Snape happened to visit it. Once. During the summer after graduating Hogwarts. Back then, he was sitting at this very table surrounded by the Death Eaters' inner circle and was afraid to move a finger. It was one thing — sitting on a school bench in one of the most protected places in the world and talking about the Dark Lord's rise to power, and entirely another — waiting for the actual flesh-and-blood man to show up and determine if he was worth bearing an actual Dark Mark. Or not, wasn't sure what's worse.

Waiting for the upcoming conversation felt way more terrifying.

"Yes, that's exactly what I wanted to speak with you about, Mr. Potter," Snape broke off the awkward silence, unable to take it any longer. "More specifically, about what you saw in the Pensieve that day." It has never been so difficult to make his tongue wamble.

For some inexplicable reason, it was unbearably hard for Harry to think about what he saw in the Pensieve.

"Sir, if you were going to explain that to me — don't. You don't have to say anything. I understand. I really do."

Harry Potter and Severus Snape were staring at each other, similarly clasping hands in a seemingly relaxed way. None of them was in a hurry to erupt fiery speeches. And though both of them have planned to say many things to one another, the sheer surrealism of the situation they found themselves in seemed to effectively mute them. There simply weren't any words.

Those that were, they wouldn't say aloud to each other even under fear of death.

Tension tightened their muscles, even the air around them was petrified, and every breath fell into the lunges heavier and less often. The situation was saved by the old house-elf whos shuffling steps entered the dining room. Kreacher's face broke into a welcoming smile as warm as physically possible. Seeing that now, it was hard to believe that the elf used to hate Harry so much.

"Good day, Master Harry. Good day, sir Snape."

"Good day, Kreacher. Everything's alright?"

"Of course, Master Harry, old Kreacher always keeps things under control," he stretched in his usual manner. "Is Masters hungry? Kreacher made an excellent meal for his Master, oh yes. An excellent meal…"

Harry looked inquiringly at Snape, but the man only slightly shook his head, refusing the offer.

"Thank you, Kreacher, but a bit later. I expect Ginny, Ron, and Hermione to come, and we'll eat then."

The house-elf bowed and shuffled out the room, quietly chanting something under his breath. His appearance snapped everything out of daze and back to normal. Even thinking became easier — thoughts didn't bog in the head as in a syrup anymore. But the realization of unescapable conversation hampered to feel relief properly. There was no way of changing the subject to something more neutral or at least habitually acid. Mechanism started. 'This train is ready to depart. Please stand clear of the doors. The next station is _Explicit Talk With Snape'_ …

"This is unbearable," the unexpectedly almost-a-whisper low voice came from the other side of the table.

"What?" asked Harry.

_"This silence. This fruitless attempts to find words. The wish to just drop everything and leave…"_ answered Severus in his mind. Why was he so stupid… But it was too late now. Snape breathed in a large amount of cold damp air, rather out of reflexes than necessity — only a bottle of good firewhiskey will help to clear the mind now. Or two. Not a bad idea, by the way…

"All this is very complicated, knowing our history of counteractions, Mr. Potter. But I'm going to say what needed to be said and I'm going to do so once. Which means, I won't repeat myself. And I would appreciate it very much if you also would not repeat it to anyone due to the fact, that the discussing matter is not of public concern," Snape tried hard not to scowl, because, frankly speaking, the boy didn't really have a choice back there. And he did try to save his ass. When did he suddenly become so considered of the brat? "Nonetheless, to be honest, I want you to know that I… well. I did not expect you to...defend me. Not that I don't appreciate it, I do, Mr. Potter. That's why I'm asking you to hear me out without interruption. As I've said, I'm only doing it once."

Harry tried to reply to but thought better of it when Snape shot him one of his deadly glares.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was a frantic heartbeat in the ears.

With a sigh, Snape continued. In his quiet, soft, deep voice, a hopelessly endless warmth could be heard.

"You have your mother's eyes," he stopped for a second and turned away, looking out of the window. "No one ever understood our relationship with Lily. She was the light. Pure and blinding. And I was… Well, I have never entertained myself with false hopes. Everyone always considered me a freak. Hell, _I_ considered myself a freak. But Lily… She looked at me like she actually _saw_ me…"

Snape's voice became almost inaudible, a little louder than a whisper when he let himself get lost in the memories, forgetting about his companion. _"Yes, I have never entertained myself with hopes. Although, whom am I trying to deceive… Did I ever had anything more than that?"_ the man thought _._ The unreadable mask, framed with black grease hair, broke and fall. He took one ragged sigh and rubbed his face, not speaking for a while. When his obsidian eyes turned back to Harry, they weren't lost anymore. They were determined.

"I won't ever forgive myself for what I have done in the past. But I still think it is necessary that you'd know that I truly am sorry. I do not have any delusions that you ever could, or should even, except my apology, Mr. Potter. Because you were right. I did ruin your life before it even began. Your mother…"

"My mother would've forgiven you, professor, I'm sure of it. And so do I."

The shock from Harry's words stroke Snape like a lightning bolt. He stared at the boy, unable to believe his ears. Afraid of believing them.

"Potter, what the..."

"I didn't know Lily Evans as good as you, or anyone else for that matter, but what I do know is enough to say for sure: she would never love someone who wasn't worth it. She _was_ there for you. And she _fought_ for you. She _loved_ you, sir. I forgive you because I know for sure what an enormous price you've already paid for your mistakes and that you deserve a lot more than you have."

If a month ago someone told Harry that he would be sitting in Sirius' kitchen and converse soulful conversations about love and forgiveness with Severus bloody Snape, he would laugh very hard right at the face of such amusing person. However, here they were. Earlier Harry would've considered the bewilderment on Snape's face really funny — it seemed like even the man's hair was slightly heaved with shock — but now all he felt was an embarrassment.

"What are your plans now, professor? Would you return to Hogwarts?" Potter asked, quietly standing up, to break the awkward silence that hung in the room once more. Suddenly the weather outside acquired tremendous importance.

"Hmm, I don't know. I haven't thought about it yet. Until this very morning, there was a huge possibility that I won't have to worry about anyone's future ever again." With relief, Severus grabbed the opportunity to change the subject. He had enough soul searching conversations for the next decade, especially with the Golden boy. Disturbingly natural conversations, by the way. It was not right. Harry tried to choose every word very carefully, so as not to lead the talking back on track. He thought he saw a butterbeer somewhere in the cabinets a few days ago. Some firewhiskey would be a lot better, though. With hope, Potter moved to search the kitchen, almost knocking off one of the chairs under Snape's scrutiny. His own topic that he wanted to discuss with Snape was forgotten.

"Doubt anyway that there is any chance for me to be back at school."

_"They all hate me"_ added he in his mind, but aloud sensibly did not pronounce. Thank God. "Maybe you might help me with that, Mr. Potter," smirked Snape. It was nothing but a joke.

Harry pulled away from digging through the shelves and looked at the amused professor. Quirking. It meant everything's back to normal. It meant he could relax for now.

"And maybe I'll do just that, professor. Firewhiskey?"

Two can play this game.

A few minutes later a black billow-cloaked figure appeared in the empty street out of thin air. The man shot heavy glances around him and with a loud pop, he vanished from sight again.

— - ♦ - —

The next morning was gloomy and rainy. Severus Snape woke up earlier than usual — a little after dawn — because of the knocking on the window. Even more… Because of too persistent knocking on the window.

The man lay down for a few more moments with his eyes closed, trying to identify the source of the annoying sound. _"It's too loud for the rain. And suspiciously...hmm… what's the word…"_ Thoughts were barely rolling over in his head. Someday it's going to play a cruel joke on him, no doubt.

_"Rain could not consist in one drop, continually falling precisely in MY window… It's irritating."_

Sighing heavily, Snape opened his eyes to look at the asshole who was cheeky enough to tear him out of the abyss of a deep and serene drunken sleep. But, of course, he couldn't see anything. Mother's curtains, bulky and ancient as life itself, were hanging at this very spot as long as he could remember and almost always were tightly closed — an old habit of a double agent especially living in a muggle neighborhood.

So he had to make himself get up.

_"The floor is cold. What month is it again? Alright, pull yourself together, Snape!"_ It's time to throw away all firewhiskey in the house. Or it's going to end badly…

Severus quietly came to the window and slightly pushed the fabric aside to take a quick pic outside, but not give himself away. No one abolished the possibility of frenzied Death Eaters' visits. Coming back here was stupid. Unforgivable mistake. He seemed to tend to make a large amount of them lately…

Happily, it was a false alarm. The misty street was empty. If, of course, you don't count a soaking wet big brown owl sitting at the opposite side of the window and rhythmically banging its beak on the glass, requiring attention to itself. All the windows around the house were sealed with a few secure wards, therefore he had to let the poor bird in through the door. The owl flew inside a small hall laden with colorless large old cabinets and doused the professor with a fountain of cold spray from feathers, which earned a no less icy look from her addressee. Without paying any attention to this little fact, said owl unceremoniously sat on Snape's shoulder and proudly lifted her paw, to which a small bundle was attached. Severus smirked, took the letter, and pointed with his hand to a small chest of drawers in the corner where two small bowls stood. The owl gave him a contemptuous look and flew over to the dresser to drink before the way back.

Snape locked the door and unfolded the parchment. There was a short note, written with the familiar green ink:

_\  
\ If you don't mind, I'd like to meet with you as soon as possible _ _and  
\ discuss a few things. This is important, so do not ignore the letter._  
 _\ Choose the time and place and let me know with this owl.  
\   
_ _\ M. McGonagall_  
 _\_

Snape stood glaring at words for a few seconds. _"What does that insufferable woman want now? Rumors about yesterday's hearing, without doubt, already spread around the country by last night. What's the point in asking me that all over again? I bet my version is not so dramatically entertaining anyway. Maybe she wants to officially kick me out of Hogwarts as she wanted to all last year? Or maybe she wanted to ask me to stay? No, that's ridiculous,"_ rushed through Snape's mind. All sleepiness vanished as it was never there.

Severus took one of the quills and ink in his office and quickly wrote an answer at the back of McGonagall's note. After that, he attached the parchment back to the owl's paw and sent her off.

— - ♦ - —

Minerva McGonagall was sitting at the table in one of the cheapest cafes in London — notable only for the complete lack of taste of its owners — and was nervously tapping on her knee. Snape should show up any minute now. It's good that he made their appointment at the muggle neighborhood. If someone decides to eavesdrop on them, it's not likely that he or she would understand a word. Everyone would probably just consider them crazy and won't pay any attention, which is good, by the way, because the situation is exceptionally complicated without unnecessary gossip.

An ugly, obviously cheap watch that hung on the wall above the bar showed three fifty-eight. What if he won't come? No, surprisingly, in Snape's decency McGonagall never had any doubt. It's incredible, but it was he, among all others, who possessed a certain gentleman's charm, if she might say so. Something in his way of behaving, in his straightforwardness and honesty was cogently compelling, suggesting that this person can be trusted. Even more: that you could rely on him. But at the same time, he was silent, closed, secretive, and exceedingly, even cruelly, sharp — an absolutely impossible man. And after all these years, how could she ever believe him capable of the cold-blooded murder of a man, who basically was like a father to Severus, Minerva could not comprehend.

"Am I late?"

The woman jumped.

"Severus… You mustn't scare people like that!"

"My apologies. Trust me, the last thing I want right now is to scare someone." Snape graciously sat down at the opposite side of the table and with a wave of a hand dismissed a waiter, who hovered above him with a menu, throwing odd glances at the strange couple.

"I believe there was an emergency of some sort that you wished to discuss with me?"

Minerva shifted uncomfortably on her seat.

"Severus. First of all… I want to apologize to you. You're quite skilled at fooling people, but I know you your entire life and should've never believed you to be such a monster. Forgive me for that, please."

Snape cleared his throat, "You were meant to believe it, Minerva."

"Yes, I've figured that much. Though, I'll never understand why it needed to be that way. Why keep it a secret from all of us?"

Good question. Snape thought about it for more than a year but still couldn't get any closer to the real answer then he already was. 'For safety,' he was told. 'For the sake of our cause. For Harry bloody Potter's sake.' Snape did not know what to reply, so he just closed his eyes and shrugged. "Because it had to be that way," was all he said quietly.

McGonagall sighed sadly and decided to torment the man no more. The conversation she was about to start was not particularly pleasant without her additional obviously painful questions.

"Fine. To the point then. Severus, we have known each other for a very long time and you're well aware of my opinion on the subject of cheap gossip. It is not a secret how many rumors are going around these days. And also how many of them are about you. Mr. Potter was able to explain certain moments, but…" Snape's eyebrows slowly crawled up, demonstrating his extreme astonishment at what was happening.

"Gossip. Really? And you, Minerva? I must disappoint you but I have _no wish_ to discuss any of it," said Severus, his features hardened, and warning sparks dancing dangerously in his eyes.

"Severus, it is important. If it was just my curiosity, I wouldn't ask. But I need to know the truth. The future of the school and its students depend on it."

"Is it?" the man hissed.

"Yes, it is. If you, please, just let me finish," sternly replied McGonagall.

"Oh, I beg of you, do explain. How exactly my personal relationships with Potter, Dumbledore, the Dark Lord, or anyone else affect the future of the school?"

Snape looked at McGonagall with icy glare on the blank, expressionless face and waited. Minerva shriveled inwardly under the scrutiny but tried not to show it. Poor students… She saw control slowly slipping away from her, therefore, she started to get a bit nervous and took a deep breath. Getting angry would not help the situation in the slightest. She needed to talk with the man, but all the right words seemed to disappear. So they just sat there for a few minutes, staring at each other in complete silence.

"Excuse me, I didn't express my thoughts correctly. I'll try from a different point if you don't mind," she paused. "The day after tomorrow the Board of Governors' meeting will take place at school."

Severus nodded.

"So, first of all, they will be discussing the Headmaster issue, which, as you know, directly affects you. Since all charges against you were dropped yesterday, but on that particular subject wasn't spoken a word, I assume that the ministry does not object to your candidacy. But the Board…"

"The Board does not want the right hand of the Dark Lord to remain anywhere near Hogwarts."

McGonagall pursed her lips in agreement.

"I do believe you're a good man, professor Snape. A man who regrets his mistakes dearly and does everything in his power to make up for them. A man who essentially sacrificed himself for all of us and did not utter a word about it, nor asked for even a simple 'thank you'. And I want you to know that I will fight for that man, even if you don't want it. With or without Mr. Potter. But I need to know the whole truth."

This was exactly the kind of conversation Severus was trying to avoid. He hated all that attention. But then McGonagall's words fully sank in. "Wait, Potter? What the hell is he doing now?!"

_"That insufferable brat. Why doesn't he want to finally leave me alone?! What did I do to deserve this hell?! Haven't I paid enough?!"_ ran through the man's mind.

No one knows what exactly was it that McGonagall wanted to achieve, saying Potter's name. Maybe she wanted to make clear that there were some people, willing to stand up for Severus no matter what. Or, perhaps, it was just an unfortunate mistake, accidental slip. But, as expected, Snape's shocked face turned completely white from horror.

Each and every customer winced and jumped from their seats when Snape's heavy fist dropped onto a wooden tabletop with a booming blow, followed by the clink of salt shakers and other small appliances. His black figure, exuding waves of poison, slowly grew above the table and leaned toward his companion, without breaking eye contact. A shock that reflected on the faces of people around was smoothly turning into a real panic. The silence was absolute. Those muggles were even more terrified than first-years at the potions class. However, McGonagall's gaze remained calm and focused.

"Calm down, Severus. You are frightening people. Get a grip on yourself for God's sake! Potter only tried to fulfill your own request."

Snape shut his eyes tightly and took a deep breath. And another one. And again. He sat down, leaning back and clasped hands on his chest in a protective gesture.

"I have never requested a damn thing from Mr. Potter, especially I never asked him to poke his long nose into my life."

"So you're saying that the whole conversation between the two of you yesterday was just Potter's weird dream of some kind?"

"What did he blab?" Snape turned even paler than before if it was at all possible.

"Nothing worth such an inadequate reaction. He merely mentioned the fact of the conversation. Said that you asked him to intercede for his return to school merely as a joke, but when you left, he thought it over and decided that the idea was not so bad. And he owled me. So even if you did show him some human part of your extraordinary personality, you could be absolutely sure of its secrecy. Though I do not understand why you should bother, given that now from every bush you can hear chit chat about your endless love to the Chosen One's mother and unimaginable suffering! You're more famous than The-Boy-Who-Bloody-Lived himself these days!"

Snape was slightly taken aback by the angry tirade of the usually calm woman. Obviously, he wasn't the only one who was irritated by the fact that the ministry's employees were unable to keep their mouths shut and had a beyond all bearing itch for dirty gossip. As for the content of this very gossip… After decades spent in shadows, the habit of hiding the real face has grown so close to him that now he couldn't tell the difference between his own flesh is the mask. Feelings and emotions gave him nothing but pain. And he strangled them inside himself. And Potter… Who would have thought that his enemy's son would take his side? Especially after all recent revelations to the boy. He obviously didn't tell McGonagall anything, or she wouldn't sit here tagging information out of him. Maybe coming back to Hogwarts as a headmaster wouldn't be that bad after all. He could just bury himself under piles of paperwork in the office and see cheeky stupid faces of students only from afar at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Besides, Severus never really knew life outside of the school. What is he going to do instead? Brew potions twenty-four-seven at Spinner's End all by himself? Snape took a deep breath and finally broke the silence.

"So we're back to my original question: what the hell do you need from me?"

"That is better. I need you to tell me everything from the start."

"This is a too-long story. I don't think the Board would be interested in my whole autobiography. Ask specific questions, or I shall be forced to leave because believe it or not, I have other business to attend to."

McGonagall smiled slightly.

"And what would it be, Severus? What is more important than your own future?"

"How exactly is it any of your concern, Minerva?" frowned Snape. He didn't have any plans, to be honest, but first — no one knew about that, and second — it could be easily fixed. And he has always been good at finding a job from nowhere. Everyone knew that. Happily, McGonagall decided not to press the matter.

"Fine. You became the headmaster at Voldemort's order, is that correct?"

"Technically — yes. But the whole thing was planned months before that with Dumbledore."

"At the same time as his death?"

After the briefest pause and one deadly glare, Snape continued, leaving the last McGonagall's question without reply. This subject was too-touchy, so he decided to ignore it for now. Minerva seemed to understand.

"He wanted me there, so I could protect students as much as possible."

"How?"

"Isn't that obvious?" Snape raised an eyebrow. "How many students died last year, Minerva?"

"Severus, the Board is gonna need more specific answers. And I, for one, have all intentions of giving them."

Snape sighed at exasperation, took a more comfortable position on his chair, and gave up to his fate.

"Well, for one, I forbade muggle-borns in school. They wouldn't live longer than a month there, considering the situation. Second…"

As time went on and on, the two of them were still sitting and talking. Cafe went almost entirely full of people and then got almost empty again. One might say that McGonagall could be very thorough when asking questions and exceptionally persuasive when it comes to getting answers. Maybe a little too much sometimes.

When they were finally done exchanging information profusely flavored with witty exasperated remarks, the sun was almost gone from the sky. The two of them exited on the street and went opposite ways without as much as one glance at each other.

— - ♦ - —

The next day came and went entirely uneventful. As all Sundays usually were for Harry, this one was very long and very boring.

He woke up early, had a quick breakfast, and spent most of the day in the library flipping through all books he now possessed. A large part of them was about dark magic. Harry didn't mind reading about it, because knowing your enemy is not a bad thing, but on that particular day, he was in no mood for it. His right shoulder was exceptionally sore, and it couldn't be a good sign.

This was an old injury. A go-away present from Harry's uncle on the last day of the summer before his very first year at Hogwarts. Vernon was in a terribly awful mood because he was informed that he was supposed to take his freak of a nephew to the King's Cross next morning, so he accidentally dislocated his shoulder while Harry desperately tried not to be pushed from the stairs…because dealing with freshly broken bones was no fan, he knew it for sure.

Anyway… Something went wrong when Harry tried to heal his new injury a bit faster than necessary, sitting in an empty compartment on the train. And from that moment until this very day he constantly felt a slight dull ache in the shoulder, which increased every time things were about to get nasty. A strange warning of some sort.

But when along with this, Harry felt a strong hunch on the bottom of the stomach, he knew for sure: he had massive troubles on his hands. Like, Voldemort-huge.

And this was precisely why Potter couldn't concentrate on pretty much anything. After mindlessly going through the entire library twice, he decided that if he spends another minute inside the house, he'd finally get crazy.

He needed a bit of fresh air.

But before going outside, Harry dragged himself to the kitchen to a least have dinner, seeing that he already skipped lunch today. He could go on without food for days, if necessary, but his own laziness never counted as a good enough reason for that. A few minutes later, he sat at the table, eating a bowl of chicken soup as fast as he could.

Wandering the streets probably wasn't the brightest idea right now because of the hunch, but Harry decided that there's no way he outruns fate anyway. The weather outside was truly amazing: it was warm with a gentle soft breeze but not a single cloud in the sky. Here and there, people were walking and kids were playing and laughing. Harry strode around the nearest streets for about an hour and a half, enjoying physical movement, before coming to a halt at the almost empty playground. There were only two small kids left with their mother. A younger boy and a slightly older girl were playing 'hide and seek', while a woman in her mid-thirties happily watched them from the bench on the edge of a playground.

Harry found a bench on the opposite side and sat there, not wanting to disturb the ideal family evening. He closed his eyes enjoying the last beams of the setting sun. A few minutes later all noises got carried away as mother took her children home, and Harry was left alone.

He was still sitting on the same spot without so much as moving a finger, his eyes shut. Fully relaxed, Harry mentally scanned the surroundings. Within the radius of his reach — nothing magical. So Harry let his mind drift, thinking of everything and nothing in particular at the same time. When it was a beneficial exercise for everyone, for an advanced user of all sorts of mental magic, who continually uses his skills, it became crucial. And Harry Potter was very advanced at that.

Minutes were passing by in the blissful peace of dying sun. But as darkness slowly crept upon the living, Harry's shoulder started burning painfully and ripped him from drowsiness. He reached mentally one more time and caught someone's presence about seventy feet to the East. It was three people, male or female — Harry couldn't identify, but they were definitely magical. And something was telling him that these folks came here not to ask an autograph… But the possibility that they didn't have any bad intentions still remained, so Potter decided to use a waiting tactic.

Six and a half minutes later the situation hasn't changed a bit. Therefore Harry opened his eyes, got up from the bench, and slowly walked up the street, deliberately choosing paths in the shadow, where potential attackers had better chances to catch him by surprise.

And… Potter was right. Or, more correctly, his shoulder was right, because the mystery threesome followed his every step, getting closer by each second. Poor fellows had no idea that they were being led straight to the trap, and Harry had no intention of giving them that knowledge. If he chooses the right location, he won't have any problem winning the upcoming fight without overexposing himself. And he knew just the place.

Harry took one last right turn and found himself in the narrow alley that steered to the small grove. There weren't many trees, which made it possible to have a good cover and excellent visibility as well as quite a few safe attacking positions. Harry rushed through the alley but didn't make it in time. His followers caught up with him, and all three of them as one threw a stunning spell right in Potter's back. Harry spun around, his wand already out, just in time to cast a quick _Protego_ , using his hidden powers to support and straighten the shield. Spell bounced and hit one of the attackers, knocking him unconscious and throwing the man far backward. The other two didn't even seem to notice that. They kept trying to break through Potter's shield. Harry didn't fail to use this little situation to his benefit.

_"Deprimo!"_

The ground under Lucius Malfoy's feet exploded, almost throwing him down. Harry's other opponent got distracted, which allowed Harry a few precious seconds to stun him and recreate the shield.

Momentarily regaining the balance, Malfoy hit Potter with a series of silent blasting curses, moving around Harry to take a more effective position, which made the latest to slowly strode back to the relative safety of rare trees. He could beat the shit out the remaining Death Eater without blinking, but first, he needed to make eye contact with him to enter the man's mind and find out what the hell was going on. But Malfoy seemed somehow aware of it and desperately tried to avoid it at any cost.

Harry, in his turn, was trying to avoid showing too much strength and knowledge to his attacker, so he wouldn't lose his advantage. That's why the two of them continued to circle in this strange dance around each other, firing curses and hexes from behind the trees for a few more minutes. It was getting ridiculous… Harry hit the nearest to Malfoy tree with a few _Bombarda_ , effectively distracting Lucius and creating enough noise to apparite unnoticed behind the man, before using a nonverbal full-body-bind curse.

Malfoy instantly fell to the ground straight on his pale aristocratic face, which probably was painful… But Potter didn't really care about it, considering the situation. Instead, he came close and turned the man around, so he'd lay on the back. Lucius' eyes were spinning furiously. But now catching his gaze was childishly easy. Their eyes locked for less than two seconds, Harry smirked and, satisfied, apparited away, leaving Malfoy and his two cronies behind.

But instead of going home after a rather difficult evening outside, Harry reappeared at the same bench he was sitting earlier and carefully dove into Lucius' mind. Now, when he once established the mind connection through eye contact, he was able to commence it at any time and almost any distance.

There had to be a reason for this attack. He could understand Mulciber or Macnair's bloodthirst but Malfoy… Something was very odd with the man, and Harry was determined to find out what. Potter slowly shifted through the latest memories, extremely gently, so he wouldn't leave any signs of his presence. There was nothing important or even slightly interesting on the surface of his mind, so Harry dug to the next level.

But what he found made him freeze in silent horror for a few moments, before he darted up from his seat and apparited away.


	2. Doom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war is over, but not all enemies are defeated. Strange things start to happen around Harry and those who are close to him, and once again he must step forward to fight.
> 
> Who are they? What do they want? Why are they doing this? Many questions, but no answers.
> 
> Super!Potter. Snape's alive. Abuse. Post-canon.
> 
> There's a side-story for this fic. It is called 'Mirror: the war', and it's about Harry's school years. A background of sorts :)  
> I work on them both at the same time. Be so kind and check it out if you're interested! :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Along with foul language, this chapter contains a description of violence. Be warned!

## Doom

Harry Potter was lying on the ground catching his breath in almost complete darkness in the middle of an unknown forest.

Bleeding profusely.

Deep cuts were spread all over his face, arms, legs, and stomach. His glasses were broken. It's like he crashed on full speed to the wall covered with shattered glass, razors, and knives. And maybe he really did. Who knows, what the hell went wrong with the fucking apparition.

But before allowing his mind to follows this train of thought, he had more urgent issues to deal with. First of all, Harry needed to take care of the injures before he bleeds to death. He could imagine the article in the Daily Prophet the next morning: _FATAL ACCIDENT! HARRY POTTER, THE VANQUISHER OF HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED DIED APPARITING!_ Incredible…

He closed the eyes, leveled his breath, and slowly started the usual healing process forcing his magic to flood through every cell of his body. Concentrating on every cut and visualizing it cured. Making himself dissolve in pain and imagining it disappeared. After all these years at Dursleyʼs 'loving' home, this process has become automatic and didn't take much time anymore. Nevertheless, it seemed like this time was somewhat harder than usual because the only thing Harry had managed to do before he heard muffled voices nearby was get up quickly and quietly hide behind some of the trees. How long has he been lying around here?

"...you know that, Lucius!"

"Oh, I definitely do, Macnair. But I simply refuse to believe that you are actually _that_ foolish," spat Malfoy when the three of them leisurely strode past Potter's hideout. "The brat maybe not a genius, but he is not stupid either."

"And now you're exalting him. Are you freaking out of your mind?!"

Malfoy suddenly came to a halt and pointed his wand to Macnair's throat. "I am not the brainless one who lost all his senses," he hissed, "or have you forgotten that Potter managed to defeat our Lord, Macnair? It means that the boy has something in that head beside his scar. And I'm not going to make the same mistake _again_ and underestimate him as we did before." The pointed wand was slightly trembling.

"Gentlemen, let's go," properly exasperated Mulciber spoke for the first time. "You can take your little discussion inside. I'm starving. Besides, we have better things to do. We mustn't keep Draco waiting," his mouth twisted in a cold, menacing smile. After a few seconds, the former Death Eaters proceeded to their destination without another word.

Harry released his breath, he now knew he was holding. That was close. But it also meant that he lost the opportunity he was counting on when he took off from the playground. The Death Eaters were already ahead of him. It complicated things a lot… But he wouldn't be the Harry-bloody-Potter if he just turned around and walk away now.

So, first of all, he had to reconnect with Malfoy's mind to find out everything he could about this place. It was highly warded, that's for sure because he's crush was not the result of some mistake he did appariting. Harry mentally reached searching for Lucius' mind but found nothing. It was weird and, strictly speaking, very disturbing. Where the hell did the man disappear? And why on earth didn't Potter gather _all_ the information before coming here? Snape wasn't so wrong about his general stupidity…

Okay, now Harry had only one option. He had to obtain the missing pieces in a difficult way. He closed his eyes and concentrated, focusing his attention on the magic around. The side of the forest, from which Malfoy, Macnair, and Mulciber came out, was totally dull and regular as long as Harry could reach. But the other side was blocked. There was an endless line, beyond which Harry couldn't feel anything. Some sort of anti-magical barrier, he presumed.

It was not good. Nothing good about it.

Harry couldn't know how far his destination was. Or what was waiting for him at the other side of the Line. Or if it was safe for him to even cross it. What if it triggers an alarm? Or worse, what if it only would leave a thousand cuts on him again, but without the power of healing them? Or any other alternative Harry simply had no way of recognizing from where he stood, alas, had no way of preparing himself.

After a few moments of lingering, he came closer to the line to be able to study it more meticulous. It felt strange. Every mental push that crossed it just faded away. But the regular spells were bouncing back with redoubled force. That's what caused his earlier 'entertainment'. Well, it could be worse. Definitely. Harry dismissed the thought and kept examining the line. He knew perfectly what wards, which sole purpose was alarming its caster, felt like. The tension emanated from them. Potter came to the Line as close as possible and turned off his conscious, allowing himself to get lost in feelings. Heavy, sodden in blood clothes chilly and nastily clung to his body. The slightest breath of the west wind caressed his skin that wasn't also covered in blood. The fringe stuck to his forehead. His glasses were skewed to the left a bit, and it felt a little uncomfortable on the right side of the bridge of his nose. His heart was pounding tightly in the chest and echoing in the throat… So deeply relaxed, little by little Harry completely dissolved himself in sensations, merged with the outside world, feeling him as part of himself. And as he did so, he felt a tiny, almost unnoticeable, wave of unknown magic coming from it.

The precious seconds flew by, but Harry still stood there, trying to identify what he caught. One could never be too cautious. _'Constant vigilance!'_ popped up in his head and Harry smirked. _'Indeed, so',_ he replied mentally. After another few moments, Potter decided that even if part of the magic was still unspecified, the odds of getting himself injured, caught or dead were not very big. And his goal was worth the risk. He already wasted enough time. So he took a deep breath and stepped forward.

And nothing happened.

It was the very same quiet forest. Not thick, not thin. The almost full moon shone from above, crickets chirped. The only difference was that Harry didn't feel any magic anymore. Not inside himself, nor outside. He felt like a muggle.

And that was the moment when Harry truly did appreciate his long ago mastered ability not to succumb to panic no matter what. Despite absolute defenseless that he felt, the boy moved in the direction where recently went a bunch of Death Eaters. There was only one problem now: how could he find the right path without his magic? Why the most obvious things always come to him when it is already too late for an easy solution? It's just not fair. _"_ Why do you not ever learn from your mistakes, Potter!" he whispered angrily.

Though his mental arts didn't work, Harry could still remember things from Malfoy's mind. So he chose the direction and took off as fast as possible but not making any sound. Harry remembered Lucius to stick with the thin forest and some clearings, and that's precisely what he did.

Soon enough, Harry found the first clearing, surrounded by the thick, old, mostly ugly trees that took all kinds of curious shapes in the darkness depending on one's imagination. But the boy didn't have much time to fully appreciate the view because he heard muffled shifting sounds somewhere disturbingly close. It couldn't possibly be anything good, and Harry, as quietly as he could, paced to the line of the trees at the opposite side from the sounds. He didn't have many chances in a muggle-way fight after all…

After a few hours of wandering deep in the now dense forest, Harry finally found what he was looking for. At the end of the narrow path in the middle of the large lawn stood a shabby old house. It had only one floor. The paint on the walls cracked and almost peeled away. All the windows were dark. But Harry made a full circle around the clearing at the edge of the forest anyway, just to be sure that he could safely approach the house. It seemed abandoned, but Potter knew otherwise. He knew exactly what horrors were going on inside of it maybe this very moment.

In the meantime, the weather got considerably worse. The wind blew fiercely, and the moon vanished from the sky above low dark clouds. The storm was coming. Harry closed the distance between him and the house and crept toward the door. Luckily it opened smoothly and quietly. Potter sneaked inside and closed it behind him.

The first thing he felt was an enormous wave of relief and joy when the magic flooded him. He missed it so bloody much.

Gaining the composure once again, the boy found himself in a rather small hall without much furniture. Only one old gigantic wardrobe stood beside the opposite wall looking as shabby as everything else in here. Harry quickly scanned the house. There were four people inside, two of them seemed to be underground. _"Basement,"_ he assumed. The other two were not very far from the boy, but the first one nearer than the second. The house itself was also warded, but much lesser. It was only an anti-apparition ward placed around. Not good, but at least Harry could use magic inside. Wait a minute… There was something else. A detecting charm. Damn it! Oh, how long had he lived with that particular charm following him around… He could recognize it far too effortlessly for his liking. And it meant that if Potter wished to stay undetected, he should not use magic. The situation became hopelessly dangerous, and with each step further, Harry forced himself deeper and deeper into that well-made trap.

On the other hand, what he had to lose really? It's not that he wasn't prepared for what may happen here. But the reason why he came in the first place… There was an innocent life at stake. Well… Maybe not _that_ innocent, but still. No one deserved what was going on in that basement. But truth be told, Harry knew that he practically was born to exchange his life for that of others'. And the fact that by some damn 'miracle' he managed to survive Voldemort doesn't mean he had to switch on his selfishness and stop helping people he cared about, even if those people did not have a clue of their hidden protection. Only now he had to complete this rescue mission the muggle-way.

With new determination, Harry went closer to the archway that led into a narrow corridor and leaned to the wall listening intently. All was quiet, so he peeked in the hallway. There were six doors (for three on each side), one of which was slightly ajar.

A heartbreaking shrill tore the night's silence making Harry froze and his heart sank. The screaming went on and on and on. It seemed endless. And Potter had to use all his strength, not to dart down there throwing _Avada kedavra_ to everyone he met. _"Fuck! Poor...oh, stop, STOP IT! Pull yourself together, man! Pitying isn't gonna help!"_ he thought furiously.

Okay now, he needed to get to the basement quickly, while down there was only one of the crazy Death Eaters. But allowing the rest of them to sneak up on him wasn't the option either. So what did that leave him?

Harry had to find a way to take them out of the equation. Preferably without magic. How bloody muggles do that? He had no idea… Let's think logically, though. He needed some sort of a weapon. But what would it be?

Potter's gaze fell on the wardrobe. Maybe… The boy strode to the old piece of furniture and carefully opened the doors. And it was fucking empty! What a useless crap… Harry took a deep breath and made his way back to the lawn, hoping to find something out there. Happily, he found a large brick under the north wall. It was far from perfect, but there weren't many choices available. The boy picked it up and entered the house once more. Hopefully, for the last time.

Loud screams could still be heard from downstairs. Harry made himself unaware of that and proceeded to the hallway, checking every door. The first on the right turned out to be a small library. The opposite door led to an also empty living room. The next one on the left side of a hall was the door to a recently used kitchen. Next to it — a stairway to the basement and one more room, presumably a bathroom or a cupboard judging by the size. Which left only two doors. Harry decided to go to the slightly opened one first.

Potter cautiously approached the door gripping the brick tightly in his right hand. He had only one chance. Leaning closer, Harry carefully looked inside. Mulciber was lying face down on the bed, completely ignoring cries from the basement. It looked like he was wasted. How convenient. In case if the doorway was also protected, Potter flew into the room to be able to do what he intended before the man get the opportunity to react. When nothing happened, Harry reached Mulciber, lift up his weapon, and with a thud hit the man on the back of his head. He didn't jumped awaken, so Harry assumed his goal achieved. He also checked the Death Eater's pulse — Harry never wanted to become a murderer, for God's sake — and, relieved, quickly strode to the last room.

Unfortunately, Macnair wasn't asleep, judging by the muffled noises behind the door. Harry opened it slightly and peeked inside. The man was pacing between walls impatiently. Potter waited for the opportune moment and, when the Death Eater turned to the window, quickly entered, came close, and hit the second man with all his might. But it wasn't enough… Macnair cursed loudly and spun around, threatening to blast-the-fuck-away the scumbag that did it, but Harry Potter wouldn't be Harry Potter without his legendary reflexes. Before Macnair fully turned around to face his attacker, Potter hit him the second time, but now to the temple, and the man loudly fell on the floor.

Harry only hoped the whole ordeal wasn't heard in the basement…

Carefully he approached the closed door and leaned to it, listening. All was the same, so the boy went outside and proceeded downstairs, watching his every step. The metallic smell of blood hit his nose, but as someone who was quite used to it, Harry ignored it. The victim's cries and pleads got louder, and now Harry was able to make out words: "NO! Please…no… Please, no, no, NO, n… AAAAAGHHAAA...AAAAA...please…"

Lucius' menacing hiss broke into cries: "Didn't I tell to shut. Your. Filthy. Hole. UP!" The slapping followed his words, and then the victim's whining got replaced by choking sounds.

Harry couldn't take this crap for one more second. As quietly as he could, the boy crept down to the floor and looked around. One more narrow corridor went ahead of him a little and then turned to the right. Somewhere at the end of it, the only source of light was on. Harry peeked around the corner but saw no one. The hallway there was much wider though. Rows of bookshelves stood on the left, and he sneaked behind them to get closer to the noises. Like a shadow, Potter slid to the other side of the basement. Two small square prison cells with iron bars were made there in the nook. _"And one of them is definitely for me…"_ thought Harry. Near the cages stood a large cabinet with several different jars and vials. Beside it — a new wooden table with a big soft comfy-looking chair. All exceptionally clean. Like someone was sitting there enjoying the show of the other's suffering. It all made Harry feel sick. Fucked up bastards!

The screams exploded the air again as Lucius Malfoy pointed his wand on the victim and icily said "Crucio". After fifteen long seconds, he lowered the wand, went out of the cage, and turned around to lock it. Harry didn't hesitate even for a fraction of a second. He dashed out of his hiding place, in three steps made it to Malfoy's back, and crashed the brick on the blond's head. Lucius shrieked and fell on the stone floor, unconscious.

Two wide grey eyes looked at Harry from behind the bars with a hurricane of emotions flowing through them, starting with relief, ending with panic and horror. Whimpering loudly, Draco automatically pulled himself into an even tighter ball in the far corner of the cell, staring on the new guest, waiting.

Harry unlocked the cage and stepped inside. Malfoy Jr made one more frightened unintelligible sound and covered his head with his hands. Potter's heart sank one more time.

"Don't worry, Draco, I'm here to get you out. I'll get you out. You're safe now," he whispered cautiously. The blond was a mess. He was dressed in soaked in blood shreds of a once-white shirt and black trousers, his hair clumped with blood. His right forearm was obviously broken, as well as his nose. Burns and awful purple bruises covered every visible inch of his skin. He had deep cuts on his left arm and face and… God, they pulled out all of his fingernails! Lower legs looked like they both were broken too. Holy Merlin's pants, how was Harry supposed to get Malfoy Jr out of this hellhole without magic? He couldn't be moved. Who knows what internal injuries the boy had.

Potter sighed deeply and turned to the cabinet hoping to find some useful potions. Most of them were poisons, but on the top shelf, Harry found a Blood-replenishing potion, Essence of Dittany, some healing pastes, and balms. He grabbed them and hurried back to Draco. Bruises could wait, he couldn't really do anything about broken bones here either, except maybe immobilize the limbs somehow, but cuts were fresh and bleeding. Harry treated them quickly and placed the Essence of Dittany into his pocket. After Blood-replenishing potion was taken, Potter took off his jacket, cut it into several long pieces with a big old knife he found in one of the desk drawers. Harry tied up Draco's broken arm to his torso, so he would disturb it as little as possible while moving to the Line. With legs, the situation was far worse. There was nothing Harry could use as a splint. Besides, it looked like both legs sustained some serious nerve damage, because they were completely numb and Draco did not react at all when Harry touched them. Well, maybe it was a good thing, considering the situation.

During the whole process, Harry was constantly muttering soft reassurances to the blond, attempting to calm him down, convince that everything would be good now. No one will harm him anymore. But Draco did not seem to hear or understand him. Like a cornered animal, the boy glared incredulously at his rescuer but thankfully, did not protest.

They had to take off, but Harry didn't know how to do that. With broken legs, the only options were carrying Malfoy or dragging him. They could probably use one of the blankets as a stretcher, but it would do little good, knowing through what debris they'd have to climb through, plus it'd leave a large trail behind them… Which wasn't what they needed at all. The other problem was the storm that thundered full power outside. This was gonna be fun…

"Okay, Draco, we must hurry, because these sleeping beauties won't lay here for the whole night. Seeing that for now, your legs are out of use, I'll have to carry you… Your job is staying conscious, got it?" Draco didn't complain and only hissed when Harry carefully grabbed him from the floor. He just stared at Potter, clasping on him with his good hand for the dear life.

With huge difficulties, the two of them went up the stairs to the dark hall. When Harry thought he could carry Malfoy for a few hours at night during the storm, he overestimated himself _dearly_ … He was exhausted in the middle of the stairway already. Even though Draco was, obviously, starved, he still was heavy.

Originally Harry planned to go through the thin part of the forest, exactly the way he came here in the first place until they reach the barrier, and then apparite to Grimmauld place. But seeing as they undoubtedly would stop every few minutes, taking the easy way wasn't wise. There weren't many opportunities to quickly hide. Well… At least leaves would protect from rain. Hopefully. _Stupid_ _Malfoy owed him so freaking much._

They stood at the doorframe, looking at the downpour. It was freezing outside, and Harry was now only in a T-shirt. For once in his life, Potter was oddly grateful to the fever Malfoy had because he was radiating heat. "I think it would be a long night…" said Harry before taking a deep breath and stepping forward.

The lawn was about fifty feet on each side. Harry chose the direction where the forest looked most dense. Both boys were soaking wet in a few seconds, but hey, _at least they weren't covered in blood anymore_. How nice was that? The first half an hour went smoothly. A few times, Harry stopped to catch a breath and let his hands rest for a bit, but Draco didn't mind. Truth be told, he wouldn't mind if Potter just dropped him where they were and let him finally die in relative peace. Draco's body felt like on fire. The agony knocked out every other feeling and Malfoy struggled desperately to stay conscious. But he was failing. Dozens of black dots were dancing in sight (not that it really mattered in the pitch-black night around), all sounds seemed like they were miles away. The hand, gripping his savior's collar, was losing its touch. And suddenly all of it stopped being so important when the darkness started to slowly drag him to her embrace, promising oblivion. "Draco! Damn it, Malfoy! Stay with me, you hear me?! Stay with me!" These were the last words he heard before falling into nothingness.

— - ♦ - —

Harry was positively exhausted. It couldn't be more than two hours since they took off, but he was unable to move a finger anymore. They weren't so far from the house, and those scumbags might already be awake and in search of their little toy. _And_ on top of it all, fucking Malfoy lost his fucking conscience!

 _"_ Calm down, man, come on! Things can't be _that_ bad,", whispered Harry to himself after leaning Draco in a half-seated position to the tree and sitting beside him. At least the storm wore off. Why all this crap is always happening to _him_? He would never go for a walk again. Ever.

Anyhow… Harry pulled himself out of his thoughts. He needed to move. Draco's condition was disturbing him. The boy must be in agony already and being lifted up and down every five minutes for quite a few hours long walk under the freezing storm couldn't possibly do any good. Harry knew, he was basically killing Malfoy by doing so. But he had no right to stop now. He looked in those eyes full of desperate hope and made a promise. And even if he wouldn't be able to save him, at least the boy will die in friendly hands. His heart sank. _No._ He won't let bloody Malfoy die on his watch. He will take him back. He will heal his wounds. He will help him recover from this mess. And he will make sure that freaking Draco Malfoy, who's been great pain in the ass for as long as Harry knew the boy, will have a long and happy life. Yes. That's exactly what will happen.

Harry pulled his own shivering, aching body up from the sitting position. He stretched his arms, legs, and the back took his charge in his hands and continued the slow strode through the jungle that this forest became.

Many even more exhausting hours and later, Harry found himself near a small river. _"Just wonderful,"_ he thought. He could swim, alright, but what on earth would he do about still unconscious Draco?! He'll have to wake him, for one, but that's not the main problem… Okay, fine. He needed to go along the edge and find a more narrow spot. The sun rose a few hours ago, and Harry was extremely thankful for that. The impenetrable wilds they were often running into were easier to bypass once Potter was able to actually see where he was going.

Harry stumbled to the water and laid Malfoy down on the grass. God, how heavier the boy was when unconscious… Potter literally couldn't feel his own arms anymore. He washed his face, neck, and hands in the river, and then scooped up a handful of water to splash it into Draco's face, hoping to wake him up and clapped his cheeks lightly. Didn't work though. So Harry did it again. And again.

And finally, the boy's eyelids shot open and his gaze darted around in confusion. "Hey, sleepyhead, it's alright. I'm Harry Potter, remember? I came into that horrible house last night and took you out. We're in the forest on our way to the safest place on the planet where no one could ever get to you. Are you with me now?" Draco's eyes met Harry's, and realization slowly hit Malfoy with the easiness of a full-speed train. The blond covered his face with his good hand as he started sobbing uncontrollably.

Harry only sat nearby for God knows how long, patting the boy's shoulder slightly. "It's gonna be okay. Everything's gonna be okay," he repeated like a mantra. They needed to keep going, but Potter was unable to make himself get up. It was, by all means, the most exhausting night in his life, and he rightfully considered himself a tough person. As minutes ticked by, sobs became quiet breathing and Harry glanced at the boy beside him.

Draco laid on the ground shivering slightly and looking at him. "Thank you," he whispered.

Harry nodded. "Are you feeling any worse than yesterday?" he asked eventually. Draco shook his head in denial. "Well, that is something, I suppose. We have to cross the river somewhere though… And it's not good news." He suddenly broke off the talk and put the finger on the lips. Behind the row of trees and bushes, two Death Eaters slowly strode, bickering.

"Oh, come on, man. They're still somewhere inside the circle. I mean, how far could anyone possibly drag the brat overnight under that storm? I won't be surprised if he's simply lying under some tree in his own shit. Dead." Mulciber didn't reply to that, and the steps went further.

Thank Merlin they were covered by the large bush…

Driven by the sudden rush of adrenalin, Harry got up, took Draco, and quickly paced along the river in the opposite direction. They were running out of time, and that simple statement made Potter forget tiredness he felt a moment ago. Ten minutes later, they came to a place where the river was exceptionally thin and shallow. They could simply walk through it.

Everything went smoothly, and in a few minutes, the boys got out of the dense forest to the much thinner one. The sun was shining brightly in the sky. Turned out, it was nearly noon. They must be somewhere close to the line, Harry felt it. Almost as clear as his warning shoulder… So he quickened the pace as much as possible. But clearly not enough.

"Hey, Macnair, they're here! They're near the edge!" a loud voice busted somewhere behind.

A wave of goosebumps went through Harry's back, opening the thousandth breath, and Potter tightened his grip on Malfoy, breaking into a run. God knows where he found the strength for that, but he did. Two Death Eaters were catching up quickly, much more quickly than Harry wanted, but Potter didn't give up either.

Mulciber and Macnair were in a few feet distance when Harry felt the blessing that was his magic. And he immediately apparited away from that dreadful place to the safety of his own house. He looked down at Draco only to find him once again unconscious and white as death itself.


	3. The old-new man — 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war is over, but not all enemies are defeated. Strange things start to happen around Harry and those who are close to him, and once again he must step forward to fight.
> 
> Who are they? What do they want? Why are they doing this? Many questions, but no answers.
> 
> Super!Potter. Snape's alive. Abuse. Post-canon.
> 
> There's a side-story for this fic. It is called 'Mirror: the war', and it's about Harry's school years. A background of sorts :)  
> I work on them both at the same time. Be so kind and check it out if you're interested! :)

## The old-new man — 1

**_Same Monday, three hours earlier_ **

Severus Snape was sitting in his old-new comfy chair, absentmindedly staring at one particularly fascinating spot on the wall of Dumbledore's, no, _his_ office. Even after spending here most of the previous year (quite literally, by the way), he still couldn't bring himself to stop calling it ' _Dumbledore's'_. The Board's meeting that took place this very morning gave up under McGonagall's pressure, who without any doubt used the kindly given Potter's blessing as a lever. And Snape couldn't decide what was bothering him the most: that Potter would eventually call for that debt or that he would just forget about it, pretending it never existed. Because, to be completely honest, Severus already owed too much to the Brat-Who-Lived. And he didn't like it.

Anyway. Snape was sitting there for a good reason. He was waiting for his first (kind of) staff meeting for annoying greetings and discussions about some important matters of the upcoming year. He was expected to take big decisions, to _make things right_ , by all means, when all he wanted at that moment was to simply have some peace. He deserved it, did he not? But it seemed that by trying to make up for the old mistakes, he just made dozens of new ones and was expected to make up for them now. Maybe he should've canceled the whole thing and go home to brood in solitude.

A knock on the door tore him out of his thoughts. "Enter," he said simply and Minerva walked into the room. "We are almost ready and waiting for you in the staff room, Severus. Only Sybill is running a bit late. I imagine, she said that 'one never know when fate might strike' and that she needed to clean her inner eye before she could come," she smirked.

"Oh... Understandable," Snape smirked back, "let's go then." He rose from the table, and the pair exited the office.

— - ♦ - —

A middle-sized room filled with morning sunlight was full of people. Every member of the staff was seated on both sides of a long table, chatting quietly. Despite the cheery weather outside, the atmosphere in the room was tense. The war was over. Hogwarts stepped into a new era, and everyone waited for the changes in slight worry. The board's meeting ended about half an hour ago. The big decision was made and the new Headmaster was supposed to enter any moment now.

Finally, the door opened, abruptly ending all conversations. Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape entered and without a word, leisurely proceeded across the room toward two vacant seats at the far end of the table: at the head and it's immediate right. No one dared to breathe as their gazes followed the new-comers.

When Minerva stopped and took a seat at the right side of the table, a collective shocked gasp broke the dead silence of the room.

Snape stood behind his chair and glanced heavily at his audience, waiting for everyone to gain their composure.

"Good morning," he said quietly, his deep low voice softly rolling through the room. "Understandably, my reappointment is a bit of shock for all of you. It is a shock for me as well, but what's done is done. All we can do is work together toward our common goal — raising decent witches and wizards. And I sincerely hope that we can overcome all previous animosity and misunderstandings between all of us and work as a united front, helping and supporting one another."

"How about you at least apologize for the last year first?" said Flitwick, breaking deadly silence in the room. Snape quirked an eyebrow at him but didn't show discomfort in any way.

"I am not going to apologize for the means of war, Filius. I hated every minute of it as much as you did, but, as I am sure you're aware, none of us had a choice in the matter. I always thought Hogwarts' professors are wise enough to understand that simple fact. Was I wrong?"

No one dared to reply to that. Nor anyone had a chance to do so, because at that moment the door swung open and with a loud bang crushed at the opposite wall, showing the panting Divination teacher. Her disheveled appearance and flushed face screwed with a variety of emotions were disturbing because every single person in the room knew perfectly well what will follow.

"My apologies. I just had a new revelation!" the woman cried out in her usual manner.

"Sybill," interrupted Snape, dangerously narrowing his eyes. "I'm sure, it is an interesting story, but would you mind at least taking your seat first? We are in the middle of something here."

Trelawny shut her mouth with a loud click, blushed like a schoolgirl under Snape's scrutiny, and hurried to the nearest chair. Minerva chuckled softly, and after a few moments, all members of the staff one by one turned their attention back to Severus.

"If no one has any more divine announcements to make, let's close the introduction part and go straight to business. Our first big matter to discuss is next year's teaching programs. There is no need to tell that every last year change is, obviously, canceled. We're going back to our old programs. If you want to modify something, you are, of course, free to do so but I'd like to view it. So we will be back to it in August when I want all of you to present your programs. Questions?"

"Yes," Minerva cut in. "Severus, I'm afraid we'll have to make big changes in them. Our students barely managed to learn half of the usual curriculum. And muggle-borns weren't even here to learn at all."

"Right, about that. It is, indeed, a problem. And I want to suggest an easy solution: we simply repeat last year. That way, all our students will catch up with everything they missed, and the fifth- and seventh-years' will get a better opportunity to pass their OWL's and NEWT's."

"But what about new students?" asked Pomona.

"I'm afraid we will have to deal with two first-year classes. Of course, to somewhat lessen the amount of work for you, all our old students will have an examination on every subject of their year curriculum, and depending on the results we'll reschedule their lessons and exclude any unnecessary repetition. Your opinion?" For a few moments, Snape stood in the staff room waiting for others to mull over his suggestion and say anything. And finally one by one, all professors accepted his idea. "But, Minerva, we'll have to send the usual letters earlier. At least to the seventh-year's."

"Of course, don't worry about that. When would you like to send them?"

"As soon as possible," answered Snape. "Now, if you don't have any questions, we'll return to this at the next meeting to discuss it more thoroughly. Let's move on to the next subject."

"Well, I do have a question, Headmaster," said Slughorn, quirking his lips. "What about the missing Defense Against the Dark Art's and Muggle Studies professors? Do you have someone in mind, Severus?

"No one specific at the moment, Horace. But I'm on it, don't you worry yourself over it."

The meeting went on for another fifteen minutes. After that, everyone left the staff room pretty quickly and went to their own offices. Snape came back to his, but instead of resuming his earlier activity with the spot on the wall, he decided to make some paperwork done and compose the list of upcoming students, from time to time letting Dumbledore's portrait to drag him in mostly pointless conversations.

Suddenly his fireplace fired up, showing McGonagall's worried face. "Severus, do you know where Mr. Potter currently is? I'm sending those letters we discussed earlier, and Potter's one seems to have no address."

"He's living at Black's house. It is still under Fidelius charm. Maybe that's the problem," replied Severus without taking gaze from parchment. "I am sure Mr. Potter is just fine. There's no need to panic."

"I'm not panicking. But maybe we should check upon him. There is still plenty of Death Eaters wondering around. Besides, if he were just hidden under Fidelius charm, our tracking spell would say 'the address is unknown', but in this case, it simply doesn't work. By the way, the same thing is with Malfoy's letter. I'm worrying, Severus."

Snape took a deep breath. Why that brat can't spend a day without getting himself and others in trouble? "Fine, I'll check the house. But I'm sure everything is alright with both of them. I'll let you know."

With that, McGonagall vanished from the fireplace. "Phineas," called Snape. "Could you please make a quick trip to your other portrait and find our Golden Boy?" Nigellus nodded and vanished from the frame. For several minutes, the only sound in the office was a quill, scrabbing fiercely on parchment.

Until Phineas reappeared in the frame and reported the news that Harry Potter walked out of the house the previous evening for a quick walk and never came back.

 _"Crap,"_ thought Snape. What if, indeed, something happened? He got up from his seat to floo McGonagall. In a few moments, she stood in his office, sending Patronus to Shacklebolt to alert the ministry just in case.

Fifteen minutes later, after Minerva left the office, Severus found himself pacing the room. Why was he so nervous? He shouldn't be so nervous. It's _Potter_ they were talking about. Suddenly right in front of Headmaster's face, a small piece of parchment appeared from nowhere. It was a note:

_\  
\ Please, come to the headquarters  
\ as soon as you can.  
\   
\ HP  
\   
_

It was weird for several reasons. First, Severus never saw that way of communication. Second, 'HP' has to stand for 'Harry Potter' and as far as Snape knew, he was supposed to be missing. So the Golden Boy decided to return from whatever nonexisting place he wandered just now and wished to see Severus? Specifically. "What an insufferable brat," the man huffed indignantly. Strange, though. If McGonagall's right, Draco was missing as well, so there was a great chance that they're together.

A few seconds later, Snape exited his office and without telling anyone went to the border of the anti-apparition zone. And within ten minutes he was standing at the doorstep at Grimmauld place for the second time in the last few days. The house was quiet (if you don't count Moody's 'joke' in the entrance, of course… Bloody fool).

"Potter?" hesitantly called Severus, but instead of the boy, in front of him appeared Kreacher the house-elf.

"Good day, sir Snape. Master Harry is in his room with Master Draco. Kreacher is supposed to walk you there, sir." Kreacher bowed and gestured toward the stairs. Severus nodded, followed the elf to the second floor, and stopped near the pointed door. But before he could do anything, it swung open by itself.

Snape froze. He had no idea why he didn't expect something like this when he clearly should have. Harry Potter, covered in dirt from head to toes, in wet, completely soaked in blood clothes, was sitting at the edge of the bed, on which Draco Malfoy lay sleeping (or unconscious) in much cleaner, but all the same an even worse state. Snape breathed in sharply and asked the most obvious thing, "Potter, what the hell happened?! Were you attacked?"

When Harry turned his face to Snape, the utter exhaustion in the boy's eyes blew out every word Severus was intended to say. Instead, he just stared at Potter, not sure of what to do.

"Well, I was, but it's not the point," Harry replied tiredly, turning back to the blond.

"And Draco?" asked Severus, walking into the room to have a better look at his godson.

"Mulciber, Macnair, and Malfoy Sr. kidnapped and tortured him for approximately two weeks in some God-forsaken hole in the middle of nowhere."

"WHAT?!" Snape stumbled backward and grabbed the back of the chair Potter was sitting on to keep himself steady. "How did you find out? Why didn't you tell anyone, you stupid boy?!"

"First of all, could you please stop shouting?" When Severus only glared in response, Harry continued, "As I was trying to say, I find out absolutely accidentally after that merry trio attacked me yesterday evening."

Noticing distress on his professor's face, Harry added softly, "He's gonna be okay in a few minutes. All dangerous wounds are already healed, it's just some bruises and scars left. Don't worry."

Shifting his gaze back to the silent figure on the bed, Snape finally noticed the constant small changes. Draco, indeed, was healing — it seemed like he was doing so all by himself — and fast. With each second, his bruises were fading away more and more. Fascinating process. "What did you give him?"

"Nothing." Potter turned back to the sleeping boy, eyeing him carefully.

"Potter."

"Nothing! Honestly."

"Well, he clearly doesn't do that by himself," said Snape exasperatedly.

"Clearly," replied no less exasperated Harry.

"Then how…" and the sudden realization struck Severus very hard. "Are _you_ doing it?"

Harry nodded. "I'll explain everything, but not right now. I wrote to you because technically you're the only one he has left and because I need your help, professor."

"My help. Interesting. And how exactly may I help you? And, most importantly, why do you suddenly care about young Mr. Malfoy?"

"I'm going to call a few Order members for a meeting because I've something important to share, besides news about Draco of course, and I need you on my side there."

Snape couldn't believe his ears. The arrogance of that boy! Who does he think he is? "Did you, perhaps, get hit in the head? Our recent 'chat' is not going to change things, Mr. Potter. What makes you think that I would want to help you?" Snape folded his arms on the chest and raised an eyebrow.

When Harry stood up and looked Snape straight in the eyes, Severus found himself lost in a sense of Deja Vu. Potter did not say a word, waiting patiently for Snape to break up the staring contest. And it pissed the man off. His eyes flashed dangerously, but Harry did not seem to care.

"Why?" finally asked Severus.

"Because of your authority. Because of your brilliant mind. Because of your ability to play out any situation in your favor. Shall I go on?" Harry made a little pause to let his message sink in. "I know it seems strange to you, professor. And you're right, our recent _chat_ , as you put it, didn't change anything but only because it never was like you think it was. Even if you didn't notice it," Harry said. "I'm not asking for myself, sir. At least not entirely for myself, for your godson too. Draco will have a hell of recovery, and he needs you."

And with that Harry retreated from the room, leaving stunned Snape to his thoughts. Draco's healing process was going well. There was a moment when Harry truly believed he lost the other boy, but thankfully that wasn't the case. Harry quickly delivered the blond to the nearest bedroom and immediately started healing. By some miracle, Malfoy's injuries did not get as worse as Potter expected after more than twelve hours of roaming through the dense forest. And now, when everything was back to the comparative normality, there was time for Harry to take care of himself. He made his way to the nearest bathroom and looked in the mirror. And didn't recognize himself… _"Shower, definitely…"_

After five minutes under hot relaxing water, Harry got out, dried himself, conjured some fresh, clean clothes, and got dressed. He had no idea how stiff he actually was until now. And what he was ready to give up for at least six hours of sleep… But it just wasn't gonna happen. With a sigh, Potter went back to Draco's room, but on the way there, he unexpectedly got hit by a wave of horrible images, popping up in his head. It was Malfoy's memories of the days the boy spent in that house: of his father breaking his bones with a smile on the face; of Mulciber and Macnair, cutting and burning, and ripping, and using crucio, and many other nasty things. Draco Malfoy had a nightmare… And if Harry wanted for him to recover as quickly as possible, he needed to block those dreams. Which meant endless days of keeping a constant connection with the blond's mind ahead of him and even more exhaustion… _Why was he doing that again?_ Oh, right, because he's Harry-bloody-Potter, an insufferable do-gooder. Well, it sucked.

Effortlessly locking away all unwanted memories deep in Draco's mind and making a mental note to stock up on Dreamless sleep, Harry hurriedly proceeded to his destination, before Snape managed to wake the boy up and triggered a panic attack. But, thankfully, it was alright.

"Professor," he mumbled to Snape, leaning on the door.

"Potter," Severus responded, glancing at his student.

"I suppose we need to talk. Sir," smiled Harry. "Kitchen?"

Without waiting for a reply, Harry went downstairs, acutely aware of a deadly glare burning holes in his back. When the two got to the kitchen, Snape immediately took a seat at the head of the table, leaned back, and crossed his arms on the chest when Potter unexpectedly took a seat right next to him.

"Mr. Potter, need I remind you of a proper way of addressing to a superior adult?" hissed Severus in his usual manner sitting at his long-ago claimed spot at the table.

"Sorry, sir," said Harry before shortly adding "May I speak to you for a minute?" Starting a fight right now wasn't a good idea considering things the boy had in mind.

"Yes, you may," nodded Severus, not entirely sure he wanted to listen.

"Thank you. As I've already said before, I need your help regarding Draco's situation. Are you willing to do so?" Harry also sat opposite Snape and eyed him strangely. Strangely, because Severus has never seen that look at Potter's face before.

"Of course, I am. What exactly do you want from me, Mr. Potter?"

"I want Draco to stay here under my supervision until he's ready to face the big world again. As you probably noticed, I am good at healing but not only physically. I can heal his mind. And I know precisely what he's going through, so he also has someone to talk to when he's ready. I need you to let me do this. I need you to trust me on this," Harry held up a hand to indicate that he hasn't finished and prevented Snape from interrupting him with some snide remark about trusting him.

"And I know you don't. Not completely, at least. But the thing is, professor, you don't know the real me. Not even close. All I'm asking is one chance. I'll answer all your questions, I'll prove whatever you want me to prove. But I need you on my side."

Severus was astonished, to put it mildly. Potter seemed sincere, but that was the main problem. Since when the Golden boy trusted him so much? Was it because of Lily? The man honestly didn't know what to think. Maybe Potter deserved that chance he's asking for. After all the second chances Snape himself ever got from others (including Potter) he couldn't refuse now. But there still was one important question. "Why?"

"Because you're Draco's godfather," merely shrugged Harry in response.

"No, I mean why do you want this so much? You seem strangely desperate, Potter, and I want to know why," inquired Severus.

Harry sighed. This was exactly the sort of questions he did not have the energy to answer right now. And, obviously, exactly the sort of questions Snape would ask. "Because I care. Believe it or not, I do care about some people you would never imagine me caring for. Draco sodding Malfoy is among them."

Snape's eyebrow slowly raised, and Potter added, "Listen, I'm exhausted to the point of almost falling unconscious. And I already promised to answer all your questions. Can we leave it be for now?"

Intrigued, Severus thought it over. The boy did look awful. Even freshly showered and in clean clothes, he still appeared as though he's just been through all seven circles of hell and back. And seeing Draco's condition, maybe Potter really has.

"Fine. You have my support. Anything else?"

"Um, yes, actually. Would you mind staying here with your godson for now? It'll be good for him to see other people around."

Well, it's not like Snape never stayed here before.

"Alright. Besides someone has to supervise you while you supervising Draco," smirked Snape.

"That is great. But, just to be clear, I can supervise myself, thank you. This is not the headquarters anymore. It's just my home. And you are my guest. So don't worry about it," almost snapped Harry, getting up. "You can choose any room you like, Kreacher will help you to get settled in. Oh, and if you want to brew potions during that time, you could either use my lab in the basement or make your personal lab, again, in any room you like," the boy smirked tiredly at Snape's quirked eyebrows and exited the kitchen. But halfway to the stairs, he remembered something and came back.

"Almost forgot… Could you please floo to some Order members to get here quickly while I'm checking out Draco? He's about to wake up."

"I thought there wasn't any 'Order' anymore."

"Well, yeah, but there is something odd with the kidnapping, and the former Order members are still the only people I can trust with this. Oh, and when you'll contact Weasley's, can you please ask them to bring Ron, Hermione, and Ginny along? I need to speak to them too."

There wasn't any point in arguing, Potter was right. So Snape got up and headed to the fireplace without reply. Minerva would undoubtedly be 'glad' to hear the news.

Harry watched Snape retreating to the living room but rapidly recollected himself and paddled upstairs.

— - ♦ - —

Draco woke up and for a few seconds laid motionless staring at the ceiling he didn't recognize. Thoughts moved slowly in the head. He couldn't remember where he was, how could he turned up here, and what for. The only thing he knew for sure was that his whole body was sore. And suddenly a realization hit him, but before Draco had a chance to fully give up to the uncontrollable panic, the door opened, letting in the very person he needed.

"Hey, blondie, how are you feeling?" Harry smiled at him like it's gonna be alright. Not waiting for an actual reply, Potter sat at the chair that wasn't here a moment ago and continued, "You're probably sore all over, but it will pass in a few hours, I promise. And, yeah, we're in my home. This place used to be the headquarters of the Order of the Fenix, so it's highly protected, don't worry about that. I'm going to help you recover from everything. Whatever you need, I'm here. And I hope you don't mind, in order to heal you I had to penetrate your mind, and I'm kind of still in it. But not to listen to your thoughts or watch memories, or anything, I'm only blocking the bad things, so you wouldn't have nightmares and stuff."

Draco wanted to say that he did mind, but couldn't force his tongue to move. And, if you think of it, not having nightmares is a good thing. And then he realized that somehow doesn't doubt Harry's honesty about not reading thoughts and watching memories. Potter showed up at the most desperate moment, promised to save him and despite everything, he really did. Surely he wouldn't lie now.

"Draco?" Harry waited patiently for some sort of acknowledgment. Malfoy simply nodded, unable for a verbal response.

"You should eat something. Kreacher!" The house-elf materialized in the room.

"Yes, Master. What does Master wish from Kreacher?"

"Could you please make some light meal for Draco?" asked Harry, "He is not feeling well at the moment."

"Of course, Masters, Kreacher will bring it right away."

And with 'pop' the elf vanished from sight. After a minute, a small table with a bowl of chicken soup, two plates with fruits and vegetables, and a glass of juice appeared in the room.

"Eat carefully." Harry smiled, moving the table closer to bed and watching the other boy slowly sip the soup.

When he was done, Potter levitated the table to the corner, leaving fruits and vegetables on it. "Good. Feeling better?" After receiving another nod, he went on, "You should probably go back to sleep now. Your body is still recovering from injuries, and you need a lot of rest. Take this, it's Dreamless sleep potion," Harry held out a hand in which appeared a small vial and gave it to Draco. "When you'll wake up next time I'm gonna be here, okay? Trust me."

Malfoy watched his savior for a few more seconds and complied. He took the vial, opened it, and drank its contents in one gulp. The world faded away even before Draco could lay back.

— - ♦ - —

By that time the kitchen was full of people, and every seat at the table (except the head and one to the right from it) was claimed. If count counterclockwise, there were: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minerva McGonagall, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, George Weasley, Molly Weasley, and Arthur Weasley. Severus Snape was nowhere to be seen, along with Harry Potter.

Everyone present was shifting on their seats nervously. Snape clearly said that the meeting was urgent, but no one saw him or talked to him after their arrival. If that was indeed the case, why all the waiting?

Severus simply didn't want to spend more time around uncountable Weasleys then strictly necessary. He wanted to retreat upstairs to the room he usually lived in the past but changed his mind halfway, deciding to go and check Potter's so-called lab. The man was genuinely surprised to hear about that, and his curiosity couldn't let him just drop the subject. The boy always was clumsy in his class, unable to brew even the simplest potions correctly. What does he need a lab for?

Finding the wanted door wasn't difficult. Keeping his jaw in place after opening it — was. The room was enormous. Most of it was occupied by rows and rows of cabinets and shelves filled with numerous ingredients, boxes, jars, vials, books, and parchments. In the middle stood three large cauldrons and another three smaller different-size cauldrons were placed on a long table. Severus went in gawking around and stopped at the nearest cabinet where stood dozens of different potions. Some of them Snape never saw. He picked up one small vial with mauve crystal liquid and examined it closely.

"It's one of my recent experiments," suddenly came from the back. Severus startled and whirled around to see Harry Potter casually leaning on the doorframe.

Maybe he should stop getting amazed by the boy by now because it was becoming ludicrous. Detaining himself from another shock, Snape merely quirked an eyebrow.

"What experiment?"

"I'll tell you later if you want," smiled Harry, "but now we should really get going. Everyone's waiting."

The pair exited the lab and went to the kitchen.


	4. The old-new man — 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war is over, but not all enemies are defeated. Strange things start to happen around Harry and those who are close to him, and once again he must step forward to fight.
> 
> Who are they? What do they want? Why are they doing this? Many questions, but no answers.
> 
> Super!Potter. Snape's alive. Abuse. Post-canon.
> 
> There's a side-story for this fic. It is called 'Mirror: the war', and it's about Harry's school years. A background of sorts :)  
> I work on them both at the same time. Be so kind and check it out if you're interested! :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter once again contains a description of violence. Be careful!

## The old-new man — 2

Everyone, indeed, was waiting. Severus came through the door first, followed by Harry. Without a word or even glance at each other they proceeded to the table and took their respective seats: Potter at the head, Snape to his right.

The small talk and laughter that filled the room just a moment ago, ceased instantly and all faces turned to Harry. He clasped his hands on the table and looked at everyone the same way Snape did not long ago.

"Um... Okay. Let's begin, then. First of all, I almost forgot: how did the Board's meeting go? Can I congratulate you, sir?" Harry asked, looking into Snape's eyes.

The man wasn't too happy about the subject, Harry could tell. So when he dropped simple 'yes' in reply, Potter smiled at him and nodded but didn't press the matter any further. He also didn't have a chance to say pretty much anything more because McGonagall decided to take the matter in her hands.

"Where were you last night, Mr. Potter? You can not just go vanishing like that! There are people who care about you and…"

She didn't finish, abruptly stopping herself when she noticed here student's face darkened. Harry's good mood evaporated so fast, any dementor could die of jealousy. If they could be jealous or dead, of course. Anger boiled slowly inside Harry, wiping clean all exhaustion. He breathed wearily and caught McGonagall's eyes. She looked worried and Harry wondered how'd the woman feel if she saw Draco last night. He also wondered if anybody would have ever noticed that the boy was missing. And how many hours he'd suffered before getting killed by his own…well.

Potter cleared his throat.

"We'll get to it, professor. But first, on Dumbledore's behalf, I want to thank you all for your help and participation in those dark times, which is, thankfully, behind us. I'm doing so because, as you all know, Albus and I were quite close, especially in his last few years, when we started to actively work against Riddle. What I'm about to tell you, Dumbledore wouldn't want you to know. Therefore, it must not leave the inner circle of the Order of the Phoenix. This knowledge must not become common knowledge, lest the temptation is too great. It must not be written down anywhere ever. Not in letters, not in diaries, memoirs, notes, bathroom walls, toilet paper… Anywhere. Got it?" added Harry, looking pointedly at George, who huffed indignantly in response.

Snape smirked but sobered quickly, guessing the topic.

"Horcruxes," stated Harry calmly.

"Horcruxes?" asked Molly Weasley, surprised. "What do you mean, Horcruxes?"

One could easily count how many attendants knew enough about dark magic. Ron and Hermione looked down in shame, for some reason. Snape, as per usual, kept a neutral face, ignoring McGonagall's odd glances. Shacklebolt inhaled deeply, shaking his head. The rest of the Weasleys looked at one another in confusion, trying to understand the meaning of Harry's words.

"What's Horcrux?" asked Ginny quietly.

"It is the darkest of dark magic, Ms. Weasley. Horcrux is a part of one's soul, forcefully ripped out by means of murder and hidden in any object or even another living being," explained Kingsley and turned to look at Harry, leaving Ginny and George to gape at him with wide eyes. "So, Mr. Potter, you're saying that Voldemort created a Horcrux? This is how he survived the First war?"

Harry sighed.

"I'm saying that he created seven of them. And that is what Albus and I were doing since Riddle's return. That is what Ron, Hermione, and I were doing all last year. We were trying to find and destroy them."

Molly gasped and clasped her mouth with her hand, looking nervously at each from the Golden trio in turn.

"And seeing that Voldemort is currently dead, I assume you were successful?" Minerva intervened.

Harry nodded. The silence stretched in the room while its occupants digested the new information.

"What they were?" asked George.

"Well… The first one was created many years ago when little Tom was still at Hogwarts. The diary."

Ginny went completely white. "You mean…"

"Yes, I mean _that_ diary. The second was Riddle's ancestral ring."

Harry stopped and looked at Snape. Their eyes met. Everyone followed Harry and also looked at the gloomy professor.

"You mentioned the name of a curse earlier. What was that again?" asked Severus, ignoring the tension.

"The Nigrum Mortem curse. The black death. Quick and lethal."

"And may I ask, how did you identify it?"

Harry rubbed his face to shook off the drowsiness. "Um… Would you mind if I tell you later? This is a long and rather boring story, I don't have the energy to explain it all right now. Please?"

"Sure," answered Severus, frowning at the boy.

"Are you feeling fine, dear?" asked Molly.

"Yes, yes, I'm just tired a bit, don't worry, Mrs. Weasley," he sighed again. "As I was saying…um… Yes, the next three Horcruxes were items that once belonged to the Hogwarts Founders: the Salazar Slytherin's locket, the Helga Hufflepuff's cup, and the Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem. Tom was rather fond of the school, I'd say."

"And the other two?" asked Arthur.

"It was his snake, Nagini. The last Horcrux that Riddle created intentionally. And the seventh, or sixth more accurate, was one rather tragic mistake," Harry paused. "It was me."

"No…" whispered Ginny in disbelief.

Everyone, except Snape, looked stunned. Almost the whole minute passed before anyone dared to speak.

"So how are you alive?" asked Shacklebolt.

"Honestly? No idea. I've been asking myself the same question for weeks now."

The room fell quiet again. Hermione closed her eyes to prevent herself from crying, and Ron hugged her, muttering something under his breath.

"So you could've…"

"Yes, Ginny, I could have. And even more — I should have. But I'm not."

His tone softened.

"I'm alive, and I'm fine… Trust me."

The youngest redhead looked at her boyfriend for several long moments, then sighed and nodded. Potted shifted on his seat and smiled.

"Alright then. If you have any other questions about all that, Hermione and Ron could answer them. Now, to the matter for which we all gathered here. Professor McGonagall, you wanted to know where I was yesterday."

"Well?"

"Well…" Harry yawned. "Sorry. Um… I was with Draco Malfoy. Do you know where? Has anyone even bothered to check where the hell he was?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, Mr. Potter, we did _bother_ to check where the boy and his parents were. They're fugitives," replied Shacklebolt in a calm authoritative voice. "Maybe you could enlighten us, where did you happen upon them?"

"Oh, with pleasure. Yesterday evening I was enjoying a stroll on the streets nearby, and three Death Eaters — Mr. Mulciber, Mr. Macnair, and Mr. Malfoy Sr. — happened upon me."

"What?!" exclaimed Ron and Hermione at once. "Did they attack you?"

"Of course they did, Hermione. Why would they come here otherwise?"

"But how did they even find you? The Headquarters' supposed to be unplottable!" Ron cried out.

"Mr. Weasly," hissed Snape. "Do calm down, would you?"

Ron shut his mouth, glaring daggers at his former professor. Harry chuckled.

"It is a rather good question, Ron. Can't tell you the answer, though… So last night. After the whole thing, I found out from Malfoy Sr. that Draco was held hostage at some abandoned house in the middle of the woods and was viciously tortured by those three crazy Death Eaters. So I went into the said house and brought poor Draco here." Exhaustion forgotten, Harry's outrage burned stronger with every spoken word. No one deserved what the blond went through. Oh, how much Harry enjoyed the shock on all those innocent faces in the complete silence that clouded the room.

"How could you people not notice?!" he almost yelled, looking at Shacklebolt. "Tell me, _Minister_ , how is that search for remaining Death Eaters going?"

"And how is that any of your concern? _Harry_." Calmly replied Kingsley, raising an eyebrow. "I do not recall involving _children_ into the Ministry matters. Trust me, Voldemort or not, you are barely out of school and are not prepared for this as much as you think you are. As for Malfoy's situation… It is, undoubtedly, good that you were able to save him, but from now on I would prefer that, in the future, if something would happen with you or others, you go and alert the authorities rather than risk your own life. You should've done it this time as well."

Harry chuckled again. This is just unbelievable… How did the man call him? Potter looked at Ron's face at the opposite side of the table and tried badly to calm himself down. It had not been so hard since he was eight. _"One breath in, and one breath out. One breath in, and one out. In. Out. That's it… Calm down…"_ He was not going to lose control right here and now or it will end very badly.

Steadying himself enough Harry raised his eyes on Shacklebolt. "First, it was supposed to be a quick rescue. I had knocked out those three and was planning to apparite there, take Draco, and quickly get back. But things got complicated. And actually, I was relieved to be in there _alone_. Because the magic, protecting that place, was god damn old and powerful but, more importantly, unknown and I, for one, wouldn't risk _anyone's_ neck but _my own_ by going straight into the obvious and well-made trap." said Harry with deadly glare looking into Kingsley's eyes.

"Harry, dear, why don't we all calm down for a bit?" said Molly Weasley for the first time. "I think, what Kingsley's trying to say that you're still just a boy and we are worrying about you. And poor Draco, of course, too. But…"

"But we need you to stay safe. We've already risked you enough with the whole ordeal with You-Know-Who. Besides, I'm afraid, not that I think you're weak, but still, a few adults' combined magic is more powerful than just yours alone. You simply don't have enough knowledge yet," Mr. Weasley caught up his wife's thought.

The events were not going as Harry anticipated… Well, looks like they want a little demonstration. And who was he to turn them down, right? Closing his eyes, Potter concentrated on everyone's magic, floating in the room, and, combining it with his own inner magic, increased its level to the point when even muggles would be able to feel it. He then smiled sadly and looked around to meet everyone's gaze. _"You do not know a thing about my power, my strength, or my knowledge,"_ said Harry inside their heads, clear as a bell. Shock once more was written on the faces of all attendants while they looked at each other. But, lost within his anger and frustration, Potter barely registered it. He let the magic circle around faster and faster, until a firm hand that gripped his shoulder, and a low voice that called him by his name, snapped Harry out of the half-trance, effectively ending the spell.

When everyone let out a long breath, relaxing, Potter realized that he was also holding his own.

"Harry, how did you do that?" asked Hermione fascinated. _"Of course, she is,"_ he thought, glancing at his friend and smiling. "I can do a lot of things, Hermione."

"Like what?"

"Don't know, George, like turning your head into a marshmallow," suggested Harry.

"Hey, what's a marshmallow?" Leave it to the Weasley twin to lighten the mood. Potter grinned.

"Answer the question, Mr. Potter. What else can you do? Why does no one know about it?" asked Shacklebolt. The mood was spoiled again.

"If you want a list, it's gonna take quite some time, which we do not have. I'll just say that when the Prophecy said about the 'power the Dark Lord knows not,' it meant it literally. And in order for the whole thing to work, Dumbledore and I have decided to keep it all in secret. I would appreciate if you, guys, also didn't talk about it too much," and without pause, Harry continued, closing the subject and not giving any chance to ask him more. Or allowing his guilt to take the better of him.

"Now, about the kidnapping. I've left those gits in the house unconscious when Draco and I took off to the place where I could apparite, but the journey took a lot of time, so Mulciber and Macnair almost caught us at the edge of the zone. It is possible that they are somewhere around here now. But not Lucius, though. If he were near, I'd be able to sense his presence, which is not the case. So my guess is that he is still at the zone or someplace else but unconscious, maybe dead."

"How could you sense him?"

"It's not important right now."

"Where is Draco exactly? How is he? Did you flooed to St. Mungo?" asked McGonagall.

Potter opened his mouth to reply but Snape was faster. "He is upstairs, Minerva. Sleeping, I assume?" Harry nodded. "Mr. Potter was able to heal him completely. Physically, of course. If I may suggest, for the time being, Draco should stay here, under the protection of Fidelius charm. No one knows if there is going to be a new attack on the boy. I will also stay and make sure everything is fine. He is, after all, my godson."

George, Hermione, and Ginny shot a pitiful glance at Harry's direction but the latest chose to ignore it. Minerva nodded in approval. "Yes, yes, you're right, Severus. It would be dangerous for him at St. Mungo, if it is alright with Harry, of course." A small smile flashed at Harry's face when Snape also nodded and glimpsed at Potter, confirming that his part of the deal is done.

"Yeah, sure. It's not a problem. I agree with professor Snape," said Harry. "But, as I was saying… Minister, I can show you where that house is, so you could find Malfoy."

"It would be perfect. Can we go now?" asked Shacklebolt.

"Of course. Well, I suppose, that's everything I wanted to discuss with you," replied Potter getting up from his chair. "Oh, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, could you please wait for me a bit? We need to talk."

"Sure. We'll be in the living room."

Satisfied with Hermione's reply, Harry mentally reached to Kingsley, tightened the connection and apparited both of them to the edge of the anti-magical zone before the man even had time to be surprised. There wasn't any point in hiding his powers anymore around these people, so Potter decided that he would do things the easy way from now on.

"Wow, how did you do that? I wasn't even near you," asked Shacklebolt staring at Harry with wide-eyes when they appeared in the forest.

The boy frowned, "It's hard to explain, really. Years of practice plus enough focus, I guess. So, look. We are at the edge of the anti-magical barrier. It's right there, behind that bush," Harry walked closer to it and held out his hand to meet the invisible wall so he could feel that strange magic again. Now, when Harry knew what to look for, finding that tiny wave was relatively easy. Kingsley did the same but judging by the man's face, he felt nothing out of the ordinary.

"Sorry, I can't actually walk you to the house, because it's miles away, and I wouldn't be able to sense Draco's mind from there, put aside blocking his night terrors. But I'll show you where it is and tell everything about it." Kingsley raised an eyebrow and chuckled but nodded anyway. It was so strange for the man, though. To see Harry Potter in that new light. But now at least Dumbledore's instructions regarding the boy made much more sense then they did before.

The best point of view in these circumstances was from the above, concluded Harry. So he once again got a tight grip on Shacklebolt's magic and imagined them in the air, forcing his magic to comply and lift them. In an instant, Harry, along with the Minister, was high in the sky. Kingsley seemed very impressed and was amusingly glancing around.

"Wow! How the hell did you do that?"

"Oh, you know, the 'swish and flick' thing," Harry waved away easily.

Shacklebolt thought about it for a moment. "You mean Wengardium Leviosa?"

"Yeah, the same principle."

Harry pointed at the house they were able to see now. "Magic works inside it, but I'd be careful with it if I were you because the building is also warded."

"Do you know what wards are placed there?"

"Anti-apparitional, for one, and the magical trace. That's why it took me so long to pull Draco out. I had to do everything the muggle-way. Who knows what would happen if they detected my presence in there. So be careful, please. Among those three at least Malfoy's a quite strong wizard, and there is a possibility that he was the one, who placed all that protection around, but it still looks weird to me. It's just a hunch, but you know, my hunches are usually pretty accurate."

"Don't worry, Harry, we will do all we can." Kingsley's face was blank. After answering a few more questions, the two of them landed, said their goodbyes, and Harry came back to the Grimmauld place to do the hard part. He needed to explain to his best friends and his girlfriend why he lied to them for years. And it definitely won't be a nice and easy over-tea conversation.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were sitting on one of the two library's couches in silence. They already had a pretty loud argument about Harry's secrets (so loud, that Snape had to come in and in his usual manner glare at each miscreant in turn until they finally shut up). None of them was happy about Potter's lie but Hermione and Ginny kept insisting that Harry must've had a good reason for that, while Ron seemed to be simply getting out his anger shouting insults toward the Golden boy, who was _supposed_ to be his best friend.

So when Harry walked in and stopped in front of the couch, they each were so deep in thoughts that no one noticed his arrival. The long night started to take its toll on the boy, but he was intent to get this conversation out of the way as soon as possible.

"Um, guys?" three pairs of eyes glanced in his direction.

"Listen, I am really sorry about all that. I know I've been lying to you for years. And I know that I'm a total git because of it. But you are my best friends and I hope you would at least try to understand what I'm about to explain."

"Of course, Harry, I'm sure you had a good reason."

"I did, Hermione, thank you."

Ron snorted. Harry ignored it completely, sat cross-legged at another couch, rubbed his face, and continued, not daring to meet their eyes.

"As you know, my relatives never liked me very much. Actually, they practically hated me all these years and sometimes things could get pretty nasty… Uhh... Anyway. I needed to protect myself, so naturally, the magic inside me complied. At first, it was accidents, as per usual, but after a few years, when I was five or something, I thought, maybe I could do this on purpose, you know. And I started training myself. So by the time I got to Hogwarts, I was already able to do the most part of the school curriculum. Wandless, of course. And I really wanted to tell you guys. I did. But you would ask questions that I couldn't answer. It was too embarrassing, it still is…" Harry slowed a bit to catch a breath. "And there was Dumbledore. He had noticed it right after our sorting. We talked the next day and he convinced me that it would be better for everyone to not know. Safer."

Harry chuckled humorlessly.

"He told me that there is a very important prophecy about me. And though he could not yet tell me what it is about, he's hoping for it to fulfill. And for this purpose, my power should remain hidden. I believed the man and agreed."

"See, Ron. He was acting on Dumbledore's order! We told you, didn't we?" said Ginny looking relieved.

"Yeah, sure, but we were in this together, Ginny! We were in danger anyway! So this excuse is a bit weak, don't you think?"

"It is not an excuse, Ron. I had information that would get you killed should some wrong person even suspect that you have it. No offense, mate, but none of you is a good enough actor to carry that. Put aside that any average legilimens could easily rip it out of your head without you noticing. Your minds are _not_ protected! _You_ are not protected! The reason you're still alive after all those years is your lack of important knowledge." Harry jumped up from his seat and was pacing impatiently back and forth while speaking. _"Why wouldn't he understand?!"_

Ron was glaring menacingly at his friend. "You're talking like information is a bomb or something."

"Yes, it is! Ron, it is the deadliest weapon that ever existed. Look, I know, what I did was not fair and you deserved to know everything. But you are the most important people in my life and I just didn't want to lose any of you, guys. I've lost so many people already. I've lost everyone except you. Please, Ron. Please, just think about it."

"Yeah, sure. We should go, guys, mum's waiting for us for dinner," he replied getting up and walking out without a glance back. The girls also got up but each of them hugged Harry tightly before exiting the room.

"Don't worry, he'll come around. You know Ron," said Ginny softly at the doorstep. Harry just nodded to her and the girl vanished from sight. Well, that went almost perfectly… Better, then he expected anyway. At least Hermione and Ginny seemed to forgive him. The boy sighed and went upstairs to the room where Draco was still sleeping peacefully due to the Dreamless sleep potion.

Harry walked in and immediately fell onto his bed. He felt completely absolutely utterly beaten like he hasn't in a very long time. And before long Potter's mind turned off, finally allowing the boy to rest.

— - ♦ - —

_He was on fire._

_Seemed like there wasn't a single spot on his entire body that didn't contain an injury of some kind. If every trauma, even the smallest one, always left a scar, no one would be able to recognize the boy under that disguise. Harry stopped paying attention to bruises, scratches, small cuts, and all that years ago. But big stuff, like broken or dislocated bones, burns, deep cuts, concussions, etc. still bothered the small boy severely. How couldn't they?_

_This time was exceptionally nasty._ _Harry was able to tell_ without any magic that _uncle Vernon arrived home that evening in an incredibly bad mood before the man got to the front door. The glass on his uncle's car must've shattered, judging by the sheer force with which the said car was closed. And when Harry heard too well-known 'BOY!', he was ready. He immensely stopped scrubbing the_ kitchen floor and started to get up so he could face his fate, but was roughly thrown back down, knocking off the bucket with water.

_Which made Vernon even more furious._

_"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, SPILLING THAT WATER ALL OVER MY FLOOR, YOU FREAK?!" bellowed the man, kicking Harry to the ribs even harder and cracking one of them. Pain exploded in the boy's chest, blowing away all air. But before he had a chance to come to his senses again, someone's strong heavy hands grabbed him by the collar and lifted the boy up halfway from the floor, shaking him violently, which fired up myriads of stars before his eyes._

_"You will be mopping and scrubbing that floor with bare hands until I'm satisfied with the result…" hissed the man holding Harry's collar with one hand and pointing the other in Harry's nose. "And I do not care if that hands of yours are broken!" With the last word, Vernon stepped with all his weight on Potter's right hand, smiling menacingly at the sound of squelched fingers. He slapped the boy to the face, throwing him down in the water again, kicked him one more time, and went out of the kitchen, yelling 'NOW!' over the shoulder._

_For a few seconds, Harry just lay panting in agony on the wet floor as still as possible, so as not to disturb a clearly broken rib (maybe two) and fingers, and cause himself even more pain. He knew he didn't have much time before someone walks in and find him not working, and Harry wished he would be able to heal the wounds like he always did before Hogwarts. And screw the bloody trace along with Dumbledore's orders… He had no fucking idea how hard it was for Harry to live in this hell, constantly feeling his magic babbling inside and knowing that he can not use it to stop the agony. He was just a twelve-year-old, for fuck's sake… What did ever do to deserve it?_

_"Well, I've been born…" mattered Harry under his breath, trying to breathe as little and slow as possible._

_As predicted, Petunia came into the room after exactly a minute and a half. "Stop pitying yourself and get to work, boy. Before I called Vernon back," she said, not paying much attention to her nephew. Aunt Petunia went straight to the oven, took out her cooking, and started serving the table for three people. As usual. With a loud whim, Harry forced himself to get up and begin scrubbing the floor with his good hand. His chest and arm burned, and that pain reverberated throughout the rest of his body, and Harry tried to shift a little to find a more comfortable position, but there wasn't one._

_Suddenly he felt himself shaking and he could swear, someone whispered his name. "Odd," thought the boy._

_"Harry… Harry!"_

— - ♦ - —

Harry woke up with a start. And the very first thing he saw was the face of Draco Malfoy, frightened out of his whits. The blond was sitting on the floor, shaking Potter's left forearm.

"Draco, why are you up? Did I woke you?' asked Harry. The other boy shook his head.

"I woke up just before you started screaming. You had a nightmare," he whispered, "and a scary one."

"I'm sorry. Are you okay? How are you feeling?" Harry sat up and examined the blond, who nodded instead of a reply.

"Good. Now let's get you back to sleep."

"No, I… I want to use a bathroom. Can you...eem.." Draco faltered a bit.

"Can I go with you? Sure, no problem. We're gonna take you on a tour around the house tomorrow," smiled Potter.

Harry stood up and held a hand to Malfoy to help him get up from the floor. The two of them strode out of the room and down the corridor. Harry waited in the hall for a few minutes and after Draco exited the bathroom, they came back to their room.

Malfoy sat on the bed, and Harry on the chair near it. About five minutes past in silence. "What was your dream about?" unexpectedly asked the blond, his voice barely a whisper. "You were panting so hard, and whining, and screaming… Like you were in some bad pain or something…"

For a second Harry hesitated if he should tell the other boy about his relatives. It would certainly be easier for Draco to open up and talk if he knew that Harry really did understand. Once again Potter had to choose between his keeping his own peace and helping someone. With a sigh, he decided that it's always worth it…

"I was. In pain. I dreamt about one of the worst days with my relatives."

"What did they do?"

"They… oh, it was my uncle mostly. He never liked me much. More like hated actually. It was during the summer between the first and second grades. He had some problems at work. Of course, he was _very_ upset about it. And, _of course,_ he was compensating his foul mood on me..." replied Harry. Realization stroke Draco and he sat up with wide eyes.

"You were... You were...abused?" Whispered the boy in shock. Potter just nodded. "For how long?"

"Well… Pretty much since I remember myself. We can talk later if you want, okay? Go back to sleep."

Draco lay back. "It's worse in the dark, you know… It's like they're here and could come for me any second…"

"They won't. Even if by some miracle they manage to find the house, they'll have to go through the wards first. I'll feel it immediately and they'll be in Azkaban or dead before you blink. I'm a strong wizard, Draco, you have no idea how much. And I'm saying this not to brag. I want you to know for sure that at that moment my home is the safest place for you. I mean it. Now sleep. I'll sit with you for a while, okay? Nothing to worry about. We could turn on some lights if you want."

"No, it's okay. Just don't leave, please," Draco turned to his right side to be able to see his companion. Harry smiled slightly, patted Malfoy's shoulder, and stilled on his chair.


	5. Never cease to wonder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war is over, but not all enemies are defeated. Strange things start to happen around Harry and those who are close to him, and once again he must step forward to fight.
> 
> Who are they? What do they want? Why are they doing this? Many questions, but no answers.
> 
> Super!Potter. Snape's alive. Abuse. Post-canon.
> 
> There's a side-story for this fic. It is called 'Mirror: the war', and it's about Harry's school years. A background of sorts :)  
> I work on them both at the same time. Be so kind and check it out if you're interested! :)

## Never cease to wonder

Severus spent most of the remaining time of the day settling into his old room. Kreacher insisted on helping, but Snape refused. He wanted to be as busy as possible so that the annoying thoughts wouldn't wander inside his head too much. But, of course, there wasn't much point in trying… Harry bloody Potter suddenly became too great of a mystery, and Snape just needed to solve it. After all, he got tired and bored of pointlessly moving his belongings around the room, and unable to resist the temptation for one more second, Severus went down to the kitchen, deciding on his way what questions should he ask Potter first.

But the room was empty, and dinner was served for only one person. He sat there for a while waiting for Merlin knows what. Eventually, concluding that His Greatness wouldn't bless him with his presence, Severus quickly ate and went to the basement, led by the same curiosity as before.

The lab was dark. Snape went in and the light automatically turned on, even, though, the man wasn't able to identify its source. There weren't any lamps or candles here. Everything stood as it were, so Snape proceeded with his little searching party and came to a halt in front of the cabinet with potions he tried to examine earlier. None of the vials had a label, but the man was the youngest Potions Master of the century for a reason. But in that cabinet still was the whole top shelf with unknown concoctions. He tried to imagine Potter standing here beside cauldron and _experimenting on a potion_. The idea seemed downright ludicrous and Snape smirked.

The next case of shelves was filled with books and, for the most part, with piles of parchment and paper. He grabbed the nearest book. Botanica. Next to it — microbiology. Herbology. Several books on potions ingredients. Organic chemistry. Why did he need all those muggle studies? Sure, as a Potions Master, Severus did see possible reasons, he himself studied muggle science once in the past, but to imagine Potter doing the same… Impossible. The man glanced at the paper on top of the nearest stack hoping to find some clues, but its content did not easy things in the slightest. It only confirmed that Potter, indeed, was trying to achieve something.

Snape spend in the lab two more hours, exploring shelves and flipping through the books he never saw before. He felt like he's been invading Potter's private life at first, but didn't the boy invite Severus to use the lab himself? If all this was too personal, he should've capt it somewhere else.

On the way back Severus decided to check on Draco. He stopped in front of the slightly ajar door and opened it without hesitation. Malfoy was sleeping peacefully, the silent figure of The-Boy-Who-Lived was stiffly sitting on a chair next to his bed, eyes closed and head shaking a bit from time to time. A deep frown crossed Potter's famous forehead as if he dreamt of something unpleasant.

"Don't just stand there staring. Come in," said the boy reluctantly opening his eyes, but not changing his position in the slightest. Snape didn't move either.

"You've missed dinner," he stated. Harry opened his mouth and closed it right back, surprised to hear such an obvious thing from his former professor.

"Thanks, sir, I've noticed."

"Why are you sleeping on the chair?" asked Severus after a moment of silence.

"I'm not," replied Harry simply, standing up and heading to the exit. "I must admit, your idea of having dinner is quite appealing," he continued smiling at Snape as he passed him in the doorway and strode downstairs.

"How did you like my lab, professor?" asked Harry when Severus followed him to the kitchen.

"How do you know I was there?"

"Who do you think turned the light on down there for you?" the boy chuckled at the amazed expression on Snape's face. "I know everything that's going on inside my house. You didn't answer."

"Neither did you."

"Hey, I was first!" said Harry opening the fridge.

"I am in no mood for games, Mr. Potter." Snape sighed exasperatingly.

Harry chuckled but gave up. "I can feel the presence of others in some radius and tell their location. It's similar to the Hogwarts magic that allows the headmaster to feel and control the castle. You should know the feeling. Your turn."

"Well, if put aside the astonishing fact that you _have_ it, the lab proves to be comfortable and functional," finally replied Severus, watching how the boy quickly and proficiently chopped vegetables. "Why are you cooking by yourself? You _do_ have a house-elf,"

"I just love cooking," he shrugged. "Did you want to talk about something, sir?"

"I merely wanted to check on Draco."

"He is as fine as can be expected in this situation."

"Speaking of which. Care to tell me the whole story?" asked Snape as the boy resumed his activity.

"You mean with Draco? Or the _whole_ story?" Harry looked over the shoulder just in time to see Snape's slightly confused face.

"There is a _whole_ story?"

"Of course, there is," he frowned. "But let's stick with Draco for now."

And Potter quickly told Severus about the attack, the unfortunate apparition, and his rescue mission while he cooked and ate.

"You _carried_ him?" smirked amused Snape. "Can imagine."

"Yeah, hilarious," said Harry sarcastically. "What else was I supposed to do? Drag him through the miles of thickets with broken bones? Do you have any idea what state he was in?" Professor suddenly looked serious.

"Why do you care for him so much? As far as I remember, you two never liked each other, to put it mildly."

"Why do you think of me as a heartless monster?" Snape raised an eyebrow at that question. "It's not about liking. It's about what is right and what is wrong. What Malfoy Sr. did is awful. Draco's just a kid… He didn't deserve such treatment, whether I like him or not. No one ever does."

Harry got up from the table and started cleaning the working space and washing dishes.

"And you, of course, have to save everyone, don't you?"

Harry kept silent, only glanced at his professor calmly over the shoulder.

"If you don't have any more questions, I should be going. I'm beaten." When Snape didn't respond, Harry politely wished the man good night and exited the kitchen. He certainly needed to sleep. That nightmare — the first one in many years — was a bad sign. And Potter wondered how did he manage to stand upright until this point if he was so beyond exhaustion that he actually lost control of himself. With that thought, the boy lay on the bed, closed his eyes, relaxed, and cleared his mind using the good old occlumency. In less than a minute he was in a deep dreamless sleep.

Severus, though, was still sitting downstairs, thinking about the tale that Potter told him just now. Of course, Snape never thought that he knew everything about magic. It is simply impossible. Look at Dumbledore, for one. The man was powerful but no one really knew exactly how much. The knowledge he possessed… Snape would kill for that knowledge. How ironic. So maybe, just maybe, Potter's story was not _that_ incredible. He had a headache. _"Tomorrow,"_ he thought, _"tomorrow I'll make the bloody boy tell me everything."_

And with that decision, Severus called it a night and went to bed.

— - ♦ - —

The next morning welcomed all inhabitants of the 12 Grimmauld place with a clear sky and brightly shining sun.

Draco woke up very early, which wasn't all that surprising after spending almost sixteen hours asleep. White light was streaming through the window. The boy sat up, leaned on the wall behind, and took in his surroundings for the first time.

The room was small and without much furniture. There were only two beds on the opposite sides, an ancient wardrobe, and a small square table under the window with yesterday's fruits and vegetables. The wallpaper along with floors and ceiling looked also very aged. So Draco assumed that he was in some old house and wondered where Harry got it. Maybe it was the Potter manor. They were purebloods after all.

His gaze fell on the sleeping figure on the second bed. How things have changed. When Potter saved him two weeks ago in the Room of requirement, he was glad, for the first time in his life, that the boy was such a do-gooder. But that feeling was nothing compared to relief, and pure happiness, and hope Draco felt when saw Harry knocking out his… Him.

Those weeks, every second of it, he spent praying to everyone he knew. Begging them, _someone_ , to come and get him out of that hell. Or at least have mercy and kill him if they couldn't. But time flew by and nothing changed. Until _that day_ , of course.

Suddenly it stroke Draco, how oddly calm he was. He knew very little about how he was supposed to feel after everything he went through but was pretty sure that it should not be calm. Then he remembered Harry's words about blocking the bad staff and felt another pang of gratitude towards him.

Draco's stomach growled quietly and made the boy get up and take a few slices of apple. He also needed to go to the loo but decided against it. Merlin knows who else was here, and Malfoy was not particularly up to meet anyone right now. And let's be honest, he _was_ a bit scared to leave his safe place. Happily, Harry woke up in about half an hour, and the two young men quickly completed the usual morning routine.

"So, I promised you a tour around that place, didn't I?" asked Harry on their way downstairs to fetch something for breakfast. "I suppose we could do it after we eat. What do you think?"

Draco nodded in agreement.

But the kitchen wasn't as empty as Malfoy hoped. A black too-familiar figure sat at the table with a cup of coffee, sandwiches, and a pile of parchment he was currently reading. Severus lifted his eyes and locked gazes with Draco who immediately backed away from the room, but knocked into Harry in the doorway and stopped, panting.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. Professor Snape won't _ever_ hurt you, you know that, right? He's your godfather and he wishes only good for you." The blond looked at Potter questioningly. "Draco, do you really think I'd asked him to stay if there was even a slight possibility of him hurting you? Don't worry, come on," continued Harry, proceeding into the room but not dragging Draco with him. Leaving him a choice.

The boy hesitated for a long moment but apparently decided that he's not ready for a company yet because he shook his head slowly and practically ran upstairs. Harry sighed but didn't follow.

"Kreacher," called Severus and when the elf popped up the next moment, continued, "Kreacher, please, give Mr. Malfoy some breakfast. And this potion. But don't let him see you." Snape pulled a vial out of his pocket and hold it to the elf. With a bow, Kreacher vanished.

"So, Mr. Potter," said Snape, watching the boy make his tea. "I was wondering when you were planning to complete your end of our little arrangement. How about today? Straight after dinner."

"I'll be in the library," Harry nodded, quickly finished making the tea, and went out.

Severus has been left to himself again. He knew things with Draco were bad at the moment, but the boy's reaction bothered him more than he thought. Fine, it hurt him. When was it that Malfoy trusted Potter over him? The poor boy ran just because he _saw_ Snape. His own godson was terrified by his sight. Sure, they never were really close, but Draco always knew that he would find support and help in his professor no matter what. Why that bloody Potter always screw things up for him?

He got up and went to his own lab. He needed to do something helpful.

— - ♦ - —

Evening unhurriedly crept upon them.

Draco refused to walk out of the room and Harry didn't push him for now. The recovering process is tough and slow. So both of them had lunch and dinner in their room where they spent all day just sitting around and sometimes talking. Harry was mostly reading. Draco, on the other hand, seemed to be blankly staring at the window and thinking. Harry didn't want to know about what but, frankly speaking, it was quite apparent.

However, when the dinner was finished, Potter quietly got up and strode to the library where Snape was already waiting for him. Harry wondered what exactly the man wanted to know. Something was telling him that _'everything'_ would be the right word to describe the professor's wishes in this matter but there were things that Harry preferred to keep to himself for the time being. Not because he didn't trust the man, but simply because he wasn't ready to share them just yet.

Severus was sitting on the same couch that Ron, Hermione, and Ginny sat yesterday, and seemed to be lost in thoughts. Oh, how strong the itching to dive in the man's mind was… But Harry never dared. He knew how much his professor valued his privacy.

"Professor," he greeted Snape.

"Take a seat, Mr. Potter. We have a long conversation lying ahead of us." Yeah, Harry figured that much.

"Let's begin then," he said, sitting at the opposite side of the couch and turning to face Snape.

"Well, first of all, I must ask if you are satisfied with my end of our deal, Mr. Potter. Are you?" asked the man, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yes, of course. Thank you, sir."

"So, just to be clear. Your part of the said deal was to give me all information I desire, am I correct?"

"Sure. What do you want to know, professor?" replied Harry. But before Severus had a chance to start the interrogation, the boy added, "Only one thing before we start. I'm gonna be one hundred percent honest with you, and that's why I'm telling this. Ask whatever you want about the war, or my part in it, or your part in it, or my powers, Dumbledore, Riddle, et cetera, but there are a few things that I won't discuss. Deal or no deal, it's my private business."

"Fair enough," nodded Snape after a moment of consideration. This option would be vastly better than being lied to. For a second the room was silent.

"Your hidden powers. What exactly are they?"

 _"Straight to the point,"_ chuckled Harry. "Well. I'm sure there is a name for this but I never really cared about it, since I hadn't had any intentions to live more than a decade, you see, and had a tad more pressing issues at hand… But basically, it's something in the middle between wandless magic and mental arts, I guess. I'm using magic straight from the source, so to speak. It is a lot more simple for me to do things this way than with a wand. I'm carrying it out of habit mostly. And not to raise any suspicions."

"And why is that?"

"As I've said before, it's all about the prophecy. When I got to Hogwarts and Dumbledore noticed my unusual abilities, he told me about its existence and quoted some lines from it. And we decided to keep everything in secret because of that. I had to pretend to be a completely ordinary no-threat average student."

"A good job indeed, Potter," smirked Snape sarcastically. "Wait a minute. When was that again?"

"Er… My second day at school," Harry watched how Snape's eyes widened in surprise. "At the feast, after I was sorted into Gryffindor, there was one brief moment, when Dumbledore and I locked gazes. And he actually tried to penetrate my mind! Can you believe it? Anyway, I wasn't ready for such a quick attack, which let Dumbledore see my shields. Naturally, he invited me to his office the next evening and we had a very long conversation."

"If you are so good in Mental arts, why did you need those disastrous Occlumency lessons? You deliberately deceived me, Potter!"

"I know, sorry. I wanted to tell you everything from the start but Dumbledore thought it wasn't wise and we should keep it all a secret even from you. We couldn't hide those dreams Voldemort kept sending me because there could be vital information, and we had no way of using it without exposing its source. So we told everybody about my visions, and Albus arranged those lessons with you because certain members of the Order would undoubtedly start a huge panic if I didn't try to protect my 'vulnerable' mind."

 _"Albus? Really? How close_ _were they_ ?" thought Snape.

Then Harry looked right into Snape's eyes and continued: "And I am also terribly sorry about your pensieve, sir… I admit that I looked in it deliberately — because I needed to give you a reason to throw me out — but I swear, I never thought the content would be so personal. And it was too late to back off, so…" Harry sighed. "I have never told a soul about it, professor, I swear. Please, forgive me."

To say that Severus was shocked was to say nothing… An understatement of the century. The blasted boy didn't actually apologize for one of the most miserable and humiliating moments of Snape's life, did he? " _No, I must be delusional…"_ thought Severus. But Potter was sickeningly sincere. And he was looking at his professor with this awfully green eyes, waiting for an acknowledgment. If the boy wanted to discuss feelings, he's found the wrong person… Snape decided to think about it later, nodded to Harry, and continued the questioning.

"So…" he asked, "how much did you know?"

Harry frowned at the sudden change of topic but, honestly speaking, he was grateful for it.

"Everything Albus knew," he shrugged, "Since my second grade, we were communicating constantly by means of a distant mind connection. I used the same method to send you that note recently, only instead of speaking directly in your mind I conjured my thought on the piece of parchment in front of you. Dumbledore preferred the easier way," smiled Harry, "I mean, talking inside each other's minds."

Severus took a deep breath and tried hard not to look too astonished.

"Does it mean you knew that you were a Horcrux as well?"

 _"There you go… The hard questions"_ sighed Harry. "Yes… Yes, I knew about it for a long time."

Snape paled considerably. "How long?"

"Listen, sir, I don't know why Albus asked you to do that but he never wished you any harm. He was worried sick every time you answered Riddle's summons. He cared about you deeply. As for your question… I knew about Horcruxes since my trip to The Chamber of Secrets. You see… I was just thinking. I didn't know that much about dark magic at the time but it was as clear as a day that to charm an object like Riddle did…well. I mean you could charm something to contain your memories or even your appearance but that diary wasn't a simple container. And the memory inside of it wasn't just a memory, it was thinking by itself, fighting for its life. Only one thing is able to act like this…"

"The soul…"

"Precisely," said Harry. "So I told Dumbledore my thoughts and he agreed. And he also agreed that I myself must be something very similar because of the Parseltongue. He gave me the book, which clearly stated that the only way to destroy a Horcrux is to damage it beyond repair. It didn't specify anything about 'almost Horcruxes' but we assumed that the way is the same."

"And you were okay with it?" asked Snape slowly, refusing to believe his own words.

"Yeah. I was. I still am," shrugged Potter as he was talking about the weather.

Unbelievable. Severus tried to imagine a twelve-year-old, who's okay with his own impending death. How could it possibly be?

"Why?"

"I just am."

"Potter… You're lying," stated Severus.

Harry lingered for a moment. "I'm not… I'd prefer not to talk about it, sir."

Snape nodded and got up. Halfway to the exit, the man stopped as if remembered something, spun around, and added: "I think this will be all for today, Mr. Potter. Thank you." And hurriedly left the library, leaving one sad boy behind.

He had a lot to think about.

For how many years he was fooled by Dumbledore, for example. And Potter. As it turned out, he really did not know a thing about the boy, he was ready to give his own life for (even if only because he vowed to it, nothing personal). Who is he? What made him as he is? For all Snape knew, Harry Potter was a mystery, a puzzle he, Severus Tobias Snape, had all intentions to solve. Even if out of sheer curiosity.

Legs led Severus to his own bedroom, without him knowing it. The room wasn't big, nor it was small. If someone had to describe it with one word that word would be _comfortable_. It had one big window, half-closed with curtains. Near it — an old wooden desk, on which laid a pile of parchment, a bottle of ink with a quill, an open book, and a hand-made case with few filled vials in it. Soft-looking bed stood in the middle. Besides that, there were wardrobe and bookshelves, filled from top to bottom. Not a spot seemed out of order: every color was calm and matched with others, every item clean and in its place.

Severus' gaze fell on the case with potions. It was Calming draught and Dreamless Sleep potion he brewed for Draco today. Snape grabbed his work and turned around to head back to Potter but stopped himself. He didn't really want to see the boy just yet. And Draco won't be happy to see _him_ , so…

"Kreacher," called Severus.

With a 'pop' the elf appeared beside Snape and bowed. "Good evening, sir Snape. What Kreacher can do for you?"

"Take these vials and bring it to you Master, Kreacher, thank you." Severus held out the box. The elf took it, bowed once more, and with ' _yes, sir Snape'_ vanished again.

With this done, Severus paced the room absentmindedly for a minute or so, thinking about Potter. He couldn't get rid of the boy's words about death. _"Yeah. I was. I still am"_ echoed in Snape's head. And another phrase: " _I know precisely what he's going through, so he also has someone to talk to when he's ready."_ One small idea started to form in the man's mind. Not a good one. Not at all...

"No…" he whispered to himself. "No, it can't be."

Deciding that it wasn't too late yet, the professor quietly went downstairs and exited the house. It was warm outside but windy. A wave of shivers ran through Snape's spine. He looked around cautiously but saw no one. Wrapping his cloak tightly around himself, Severus apparited to the Hogwarts gates and hurried to the castle.

He needed to talk with McGonagall and hoped that the witch still lived here. The man strode to her office on the second floor and knocked. At first, everything was quiet, so quiet that Snape almost turned around and left, but then the door cracked open showing the old woman's surprised face in the nightcap.

"Severus?" greeted McGonagall, "To what do I owe the pleasure in this hour? Did something happen?"

"My apologies if I woke you, Minerva. I didn't think you'd go to bed so early. May I come in? There is something I wanted to discuss with you."

"Yes, yes, of course. Sorry." McGonagall opened the door and gestured to the chair beside her desk. When both of them sat down she offered a tea but Snape refused.

"So? What is it?" asked Minerva.

"This is, again, about our Golden boy. We had a conversation less than an hour ago and he said something that disturbed me." Snape told a short version of said discussion. "I can only guess what the hell Dumbledore was thinking of, giving a child a book on the darkest magic imaginable. But the most important thing is how could a twelve-year-old kid _'be okay'_ with his own death? Even more. How could he spend years planning it calmly? What is wrong with that blasted boy? What did we miss, Minerva?"

McGonagall looked pale and worried. The uneasy feeling raised in her chest. " _No, that can't be…"_ she thought to herself.

"Minerva?" called Snape, pulling the woman out of her thoughts. "Haven't you noticed anything odd with him? Especially at the beginnings of autumn terms. How much do you know about his life with Petunia?"

"What do you mean, Severus?"

"You know exactly what I mean, don't try to pretend that you do not understand. I think the boy was abused. And I think the boy was abused by that _family_."

Minerva flinched at her colleague's words. Her heart fell when she saw that the man wasn't joking. "I haven't noticed a small thing, Severus… Are you sure? What Harry says?" she almost whispered in response.

"He said that there were things he won't discuss with me. And this one is clearly among them," he said exasperatedly. "I'm not sure. But if I am right…"

"Then we are the worst teachers ever. Live with someone for years and not notice _that_! How blind could one be?!" She stood up from her chair. "I'll go to that excuse of a family first thing tomorrow. Thank you, Severus. Harry is still our student, after all. By the way, did you tell him about that?"

"I did not. But I can give him and Mr. Malfoy their letters if you still have them."

"Yes. I do," McGonagall waved her wand and two letters appeared on the desk. Snape took them and put it into one of his pockets.

"Thank you, Minerva. Let me know if you find out anything tomorrow. Good night."

"Good night, Severus."

And with that Snape exited the room, leaving McGonagall with the opportunity to vent her emotions in proud solitude, and safely made his way back to the Grimmauld place.

— - ♦ - —

Two blocks away a man and a woman stood in a shadow. They were both smiling as they watched their target's movements in the closing night. But those smiles were cold and thoughtful. They didn't touch their eyes.

They stood there for one more minute and then, like by command, soundlessly disappeared from the now-empty street. Their mission for that evening was complete.

The net was set.


	6. The truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war is over, but not all enemies are defeated. Strange things start to happen around Harry and those who are close to him, and once again he must step forward to fight.
> 
> Who are they? What do they want? Why are they doing this? Many questions, but no answers.
> 
> Super!Potter. Snape's alive. Abuse. Post-canon.
> 
> There's a side-story for this fic. It is called 'Mirror: the war', and it's about Harry's school years. A background of sorts :)  
> I work on them both at the same time. Be so kind and check it out if you're interested! :)

# The truth

**_4 Privet Drive, Wednesday, dawn_ **

The sun slowly crawled up from the horizon streaming dim white light upon one of the neatest streets of our time but each and every one of its inhabitants was asleep. None of them noticed a cat that paced impatiently beside number four. Which was a good thing because Minerva wasn't in the mood for being crammed and squeezed by neighborhood children. She hadn't had much sleep that night. McGonagall always knew that Harry didn't like it here, of course. The boy never kept it in secret. But _that_ …

The Dursleys came back home from the hiding place only two days ago and was more than happy to see their house in one piece. Thankfully without any trace of the freak. He was officially none of their concern anymore...and thank goodness for that. Only God knows how tired they were of all this freakishness and abomination around the boy. And now, when he has finally gone, they could forget about his existence and return to normal life like normal people.

So, needless to say, Petunia was happy. Just one thing spoiled that blessing: her little perfect Dinky Duddydums seemed upset about something and refused to talk about it. She tried to cheer him up in every possible way. Petunia cooked Dudley's favorite food, bought him a tonne of sweets, a new videogame. Nothing seemed to work. What Mrs. Dursley failed to notice was plain as a day. Dudley was no longer a child. He was a young man, who has his young man's needs and desires. Very simple ones, I might add.

He has met a girl during the year in hiding. She was the only one his age around there, therefore they spent quite some time together. Out of sheer boredom, of course. That was before Dudley noticed just how cute she was. And smart. And funny. And, naturally, all the other things that attract young men to young women. There was only one small problem. She just _has_ to be a witch. Who just _has_ to be his cousin's fan, more so, has to blab constantly about Harry's greatness and significance. And about how Dudley had nothing to worry about because _the Chosen One_ (Dudley couldn't get his head around this) was going to save everyone. So, along with the pants situation, Dudley now has to deal with the whole world turning upside down. How could he possibly explain this to his mother?

Happily, right now none of this mattered because all of them were deep in the amazing world of dreams and couldn't care less. McGonagall though still waited. She got tired of pacing and sat down at the same spot she spent all day seventeen years ago. Somewhere around six, the lights in one of the windows on the first floor turned on and Minerva took it as a sign for her. She waited another twenty minutes or so, then transformed into her human-self, walked to the door, and knocked. When no one responded, she knocked again, more loud and confident. She wasn't going anywhere until she got what she came for. This time, after a few seconds the door swung open. Not so pleased Petunia stood at the threshold. _"Who in his right mind is visiting at this hour?"_ thought Mrs. Dursley with annoyance.

But when Petunia actually saw _who_ , her mood dropped even lower than it already was. _"Of course. More freaks."_

"Go away," said the woman before McGonagall had a chance to open her mouth, and started closing the door. But it stuck.

"Not so fast, dear. I'm afraid, we need to talk."

"We have nothing to talk about. The boy no longer lives here. Now leave."

Minerva was losing her patience. If that atrocious woman was a witch she'd knew better than back-talking to her. Sure, she was far behind Severus in the art of frightening people, but the man was an exception of every rule, and McGonagall could be very strict. Everyone knew that. Everyone, except Petunia Dursley, who's about to found out. Minerva stuck a cold smile to her face, and with malice swirling in her eyes, stepped inside, forcing Petunia to back off.

"You will gather your family members, listen to everything that I have to say, and answer my every question or, help me god, no one would miss you. Certainly not Harry," almost whispered Minerva calmly, taking her wand out of the sleeve. "Now, Mrs. Dursley!"

Petunia unfroze and quickly dashed up the stairway calling her husband loudly. After a minute she returned with a large man with a dangerously purple face.

"How dare you?!" hissed Vernon. "How dare you COME TO MY HOUSE?! YOU GET OUT THIS INSTANT!"

"Shut your mouth, Dursley," said Minerva, pointing her wand at the man's neck. "You are in no position to speak to me in that tone. Now, where is your son?" The man choked with unspoken words but wisely didn't make any more sounds, except for his heavy panting.

"What's going on here?" came another voice. Dudley heard the commotion downstairs and when his father started screaming bloody murder, the curiosity won and Dudley went out of his room to check what's happening.

"Nothing to worry about, Mr. Dursley," said Minerva. "Is there someplace where we could sit and talk?" she addressed to Petunia. The woman gestured towards the living room and all four of them proceeded in the pointed direction.

When they were all seated, McGonagall stood up again, looked at the three frightened muggles, and, satisfied with the view, started:

"Now. My question is very simple: if I look into either of your minds and search for memories of Harry, what would I find?"

The Dursleys instantly paled even more. Dudley and Petunia shot nervous glances on Vernon, who's face went all the way back from being white to bright purple. He jumped up from the couch.

"This is none of your goddamn business! Don't you dare to go anywhere near our heads! You freaks think that you are the kings! Well, guess what...YOU ARE NOT! That blasted boy was dropped on _my_ head, so I had to deal with his crazy tricks, while he would stretch his lazy ungrateful ass on _my_ couch and eat _my_ food! NO, SIR! HE MAY AS WELL MAKE HIMSELF USEFUL! AND EVEN IF I DID BEAT THE SHIT OUT THAT BRAT, IT WAS WELL DESERVED!

Minerva's heart fell with a loud thud and rolled away. Severus was right.

"No, it wasn't…" suddenly came from the left. Vernon seemed like he had a heart attack when he heard and processed his own san's words.

"WHAT?!" shouted the man.

"He didn't deserve it," repeated Dudley with much less confidence. Petunia let out a little shriek and stared horrified at the boy.

"What exactly he didn't deserve, Mr. Dursley?" asked Minerva, looking the boy in the eyes.

"NO!" bellowed Vernon, spitting all around him. "You have no right to be here! I will not allow you freaks anywhere near MY FAMILY ANYMORE! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY SON?! He would never DEFEND THAT POOR EXCUSE OF A HUMAN!"

McGonagall wondered just how Potter was able to stay here for over a decade and a half… She would kill herself, or everyone else here, or most likely both after an hour. It made her think about how strong Harry must be. Minerva turned off the shouting and tried to calm down. The young Dursley's reaction was unexpected but she was rather pleased with it. McGonagall saw the opportunity to actually have useful information instead of endless insults and grabbed it with both hands. So she ignored Dudley's parents and addressed directly to the boy.

"Mr. Dursley, I need you to come with me," the professor said when she finally found her voice, but seeing a confused boy's face, quickly added, "No need to worry so much, I merely want to talk to you someplace quiet."

"HE IS NOT GOING ANYWHERE WITH YOU!" bellowed Vernon once more. "Maybe you freaks become of age in seventeen but NORMAL PEOPLE doesn't! He is still a child and I AM NOT giving you permission to take him EVEN OUT OF THIS ROOM!" He jumped up and moved fiercely toward Dudley but the boy dashed away from him scared as hell.

Minerva also stood up and blocked Vernon's way pointing her wand at him once again. "If you call me _that_ one more time, I will make sure that you won't be speaking ever again." Then she turned to Dudley. "Come along, Mr. Dursley, it is not safe for you here. Hold my hand tight and do not let go in any circumstances. It won't be pleasant."

Dudley did as he was told and with loud 'pop' the pair apparited, leaving behind pissed off Vernon and crying Petunia.

They reappeared in front of the former headquarters (or the house-size empty field by Dudley's opinion). And of course, he threw up… Right in front of the old lady, he was still holding. There was a time when Dudley thought that it would be so cool if someone suddenly invented the teleport. Now he was sure that it definitely wouldn't.

The woman didn't seem to be bothered by the youngest Dursley's reaction at all. She just moved her stick and everything got cleaned up. Then she started to move toward the field but stopped abruptly and turned around to face the boy.

"Mr. Dursley, before we enter, I'd like you to tell me something more specific, so we have a place to start."

"Like what?"

"Like what exactly your father did to Harry? Did he beat him? How often? Did he starve him, perhaps? Mr. Dursley, it is important."

"I… I just… What's gonna happen to them? I know, Harry didn't deserve what they did but they still my parents," he replied quietly.

Minerva sighed deeply. She put the boy in a very bad situation. Why didn't she think of it earlier? "I am sorry, Dudley. It's Dudley, right?" the boy nodded, "I put you in a very difficult position. But you have to understand, Harry is all alone in this. And, just like you said, he does not deserve what he went through. And I mean not just abuse…"

Dudley nodded again. Maybe he didn't understand it completely, but he at least _knew_ now. He kind of had no choice in the matter. "He did beat Harry up. Often. And hard. You know, broken bones and everything… And starved too. I don't know how he survived… And he made Harry do all the housework, no matter in what condition he was," whispered Dudley looking at his feet.

McGonagall forced herself to breathe. How could no one notice _that_ … She thanked the young man, turned around, and went toward the house, explaining to Dudley that there is a big house there but he's not able to see it because of the protection that placed on it. "I will go inside and ask Harry to let you in."

And just when she intended to step through the ward, she tumbled against an invisible wall and almost fell on the ground by the impact.

— - ♦ - —

**_The same day, thirty minutes earlier_ **

At 12 Grimmauld place, things were considerably more peaceful but not entirely. While Draco was still sleeping, Harry, who due to the old habit, once again woke up early, went downstairs to (imagine that) find Snape already sitting there.

"Do you ever sleep?" he asked yawning and making his way to the fridge.

"Good morning to you too, Mr. Potter," Severus said, throwing two envelopes at the table beside Harry.

After finishing cooking and making coffee, the boy turned around, placed his cup and a plate of sandwiches on the table, and picked up the envelopes. It was definitely letters from Hogwarts. Harry shot a look of surprise at the new Headmaster, who took it as a silent question. "It has been decided that all students will attend their previous year again because they did not have the opportunity to actually learn something last year. Therefore you have a chance to pass your NEWTs. Along with all your classmates, of course. Professor McGonagall is sending them letters. These are yours and Draco's."

Oh… The unexpected turn of events.

"Well…" stretched Potter, trying to suppress the shock. "It is good, I guess. For every student, I mean. Hermione would be delighted, that's for sure."

"But?"

"But I don't think I'll go back, professor. But thank you anyway," smiled Harry. "Was it your idea?"

Now it was Severus' turn to be shocked. He even answered the question.

"Yes, it was… Is there a reason you decided that? What about your friends? Your NEWTs? Aren't you need them?"

"Actually, there is. I could've passed NEWTs years ago, you know. The only reason I stayed after taking OWLs was the war, so… I just don't see a point in losing another year. And yes, of course, I still _do_ need NEWTs. I was actually planning on going to the ministry and asking them to arrange the exams for me this summer. As to my friends… Hermione could probably also pass them with me but she won't leave Ron, so… It's not like I will lose them because I'm not in school or something," shrugged Harry, sipping his coffee. He didn't mention that Ron was probably still mad at him.

"But…"

"Why do you want me there so badly? I thought you of all people would be glad."

Severus didn't know, how to respond. Sure, the next year would be a lot better without Potter wandering around the castle. On the other hand, though, Snape wasn't stupid. He knew perfectly well that, without the brat, among the all-school population will be only two students that could possibly tolerate him. And only one, who possibly won't hate him. The Potter's little gang. The Silver Duo. Having the Golden boy also would be very convenient. But it seemed that Severus won't have to explain all this because...

"Oh… You were counting on my presence?" Harry suggested, unsure of his realization.

Sadly enough, the boy turned out to be exactly as Dumbledore always described him — intelligent. So there wasn't much point in denying the truth, decided Snape. It didn't mean he would agree to it either.

"Well, it was you who put me in this position. You remember this, perhaps," replied Severus sarcastically, raising an eyebrow. "I sincerely doubt that there is even one more person in that school, except McGonagall and you, who want me there. What exactly did you tell her, by the way? And why did you even bother?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Why shouldn't you? Potter, you were supposed to hate me, not help!" Bellowed Severus, losing his patience. The brat sure loved dumb obvious questions.

But Harry wasn't bothered by this outburst in the slightest. He just chuckled softly and carefully eyed his former teacher before speaking again.

"Professor, I admit that I've never really liked you much, you made sure of that. But I have also never hated you. Not a day. Before you accuse me of lying, let me finish," Harry held up a hand. "I'm sure you remember my very first potions class. Right after it, I went to Dumbledore and I actually asked him, what was your problem."

"And what did he say?" asked Severus cautiously, feeling his blood slowly drain from his face.

"He said that he couldn't really explain this to me, even if he wanted, because of some promise he made. But he did say that you are a double-spy and probably in the most dangerous position. So whatever your real thoughts and feelings are, you need to keep pretenses for the upcoming war. He also said that he trusts you with his life, respects you greatly, and cares for you deeply. And then he asked me to help you a bit and play along if possible. And I did just that. I have always respected you and appreciated everything you did for our victory and for me personally, sir."

Did the world just crash abruptly or it was only in Snape's head? The man stared at the annoyingly different boy on the opposite side of the table. Maybe he should just stop asking questions because the answers for them became more and more absurd with every passing minute.

"What's this?" he asked when a vial with too-familiar silvery-bluish essence appeared in front of him.

"It's proof. Of my words. You see, sir, originally I thought that Albus would be the one to help you out of this mess. But after that old fool got himself cursed and died I was the only one left who knew the whole truth. So, since I wasn't meant to survive the final battle and be there afterward, I filled this vial with all my important memories concerning you and told Kreacher that if we win, he is to deliver it to Hermione the next day. If you survive it would help you with your trial. If not… Well. At least it could clean up your name and let people know how much you did for all of them. I showed it to McGonagall when we spoke. And now I want _you_ to see it."

Snape just stared at the vial in complete shock. He couldn't take it anymore. He just couldn't.

"I know it's probably too much, but…" he felt a disturbance in the corner of his mind and stopped abruptly. Someone was trying to get in. And Harry knew exactly who it was. "…you've got to be joking!" Potter stood up and quickly fled the room, leaving even more surprised Snape to gape at the spot Harry occupied a moment ago.

— - ♦ - —

Dudley stood on the street and watched how the old lady talked to the empty space. Maybe all this is someone's stupid prank. Or a dream, which would be vastly better. The boy was lost in thoughts and didn't pay any attention to the one-side conversation in front of him. And regretted it immediately.

"Dudley," his cousin's voice snapped at him from the left. Young Dursley shrieked and reeled around to face Harry. "Dudley, look at me. 12 Grimmauld Place. Did you hear me? 12 Grimmauld Place."

"Wha…" _'…t the hell are you talking about?'_ Dudley wanted to ask but before he could do so his gaze fell back on the opening, where a big and very old house stood like it was always there. "Wow…" only managed the amazed boy. Harry and Minerva were already on their way inside, so Dudley hurried along not wanting to be left behind in this strange place.

When the three of them reached the front door, Harry suddenly turned to his cousin again. "Do not make a sound while we're in the hall, understood?" Dudley nodded, frightened.

And then was Potter's turn to regret. In particular, he regretted two things: that he didn't remove Moody's spells, for one, but mostly that he was naive enough to think that Snape wouldn't care much to even try putting two and two together. Left aside running to McGonagall with it. Because, judging by the presence of his beloved cousin and nervous pitiful glances the woman was throwing at him, that was exactly what Snape did last night when left the house. _"Fuck…"_

When they actually entered and Dumbledore's ghosty figure furiously pounced on them demanding, "Severus Snape?!" Harry tried to shield Dudley's vision, but his cousin always was the bigger one… Dudley yelled in surprise and pressed into a wall, panting heavily.

"FILTH! SCUM! BY-PRODUCTS OF DIRT AND VILENESS! HALF-BREEDS, MUTANTS, FREAKS, BEGONE FROM THIS PLACE! HOW DARE YOU BEFOUL THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS! STAINS OF DISHONOUR, FILTHY HALF-BREEDS, BLOOD TRAITORS, CHILDREN OF FILTH!" The velvet curtains on the bloody portrait swung open and the old bat started screaming bloody murder, insulting everyone.

"Kreacher!" called Harry angrily, "Shut the damn portrait!" The house-elf hurried to do as he was told. Dudley yelped once more and with a loud thud fainted.

"This is not happening…" Harry whispered, looking at his cousin when everything was quiet again. "Why did you bring him here, professor?" Potter shook his head and not waiting for a reply, strode to the kitchen, levitating numb Dudley's body with him. A minute later the youngest Dursley was awake and seated at the table.

"Dudley, this is professor Snape, the Headmaster of Hogwarts," introduced Harry, pointing in the man's direction, who nodded in acknowledgment. "Professor McGonagall you already know, I suppose. This is my cousin Dudley Dursley, professor," added Harry for Severus.

Dudley's head was spinning. _"Snape… Snape!"_ His eyes lit up in understanding. "You're Severus Snape! That ghost at the hall…"

"I am _professor_ Severus Snape, Mr. Dursley. Have you no manners?" interrupted Snape. What a brat! "And it was not a ghost, merely a stupid spell." Severus glared at his colleague meaningfully. He had an idea of _why_ McGonagall brought that excuse for a decent human being here. _"Bravo, Minerva. Very subtle."_

"I'll remove it today. With the damn portrait..."

"Language, Mr. Potter!" said Minerva dutifully but immediately continued, "You can do that?"

"I can try," smiled Harry. "It's just a spell. Permanent, but still… Good morning, Draco. Come inside."

When no one entered, Harry exited the room and found Malfoy standing near the stairway, ready to run back.

"Draco, how are you feeling?" asked Harry, taking a seat on one of the steps. After hesitating for a few seconds Draco did the same.

"I'm fine, I guess. Who screamed?" whispered the boy.

"It was the bloody portrait of Sirius' mother. It's hanging under that curtains," Harry pointed at them. "That's why we have to be quiet in the halls."

"Why don't you just remove it?"

"It has permanent sticking charm on it, regretfully. But I'll try anyway. I'm so sick of it." Draco nodded. "Would you care to join us in the kitchen?"

The blond's eyes widened. "Who's there?"

"Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall, and my cousin Dudley. Do you remember our talk last night? About professor Snape. He will never hurt you. He is your godfather and he cares for you. Professor McGonagall would never harm you either, you know that. And Dudley is a muggle. And he's scared as hell," chuckled Potter. "Surely four grown-up wizards can manage one frightened to death muggle. He actually fainted when entered."

Draco smiled. Harry smiled too and got up. He came closer to the kitchen door. "Are you coming? Let's have breakfast." Draco took a deep breath and whispered: "You won't leave me there alone? I know, I'm not in danger but still…"

"Of course I won't. Come on." And the two of them entered the silent kitchen. After a short introduction, Harry and Draco sat in the middle of the table keeping a distance from everyone present. Kreacher served a breakfast for Malfoy, Dursley, and McGonagall. No one talked much, except exchanging usual pleasantries. No one paid attention to Malfoy. Dudley eyed the house-elf warily the whole time he moved around the room. But the boy didn't want to look weak again, so he tried his best to ignore the strange mutant, as everyone else did. He definitely was the fifth wheel here. Then his gaze fell on the vial that still laid on the table.

"What is it?" he asked turning his head to Harry.

"It's memories," replied the Golden boy without any details. Dudley looked wide-eyed at the vial and opened the mouth to speak again, failing to notice the awkwardness that filled the room.

"So, Mr. Dursley, tell us how things are in the muggle world after the war?" asked Minerva in an attempt to dispel the tension. Snape quirked an annoyed eyebrow at her. Dudley didn't expect a question, especially _this_ kind of question, and his eyes almost fell out from their sockets. Like all of his friends, he never bothered to follow the news and had no idea what was going on. Who wants the stupid news, when there are a lot of much more interesting TV shows or video-games?

"Um, eer… It's fine," was all the boy managed to squeak after a long pause.

"Your cousin is even more eloquent than you are, Mr. Potter," sneered Severus. Everyone, except Dudley, smirked. The boy cringed in a tight knot and dropped his gaze. _"Like a poor first-year Hufflepuff"_ scoffed Snape to himself but shuddered inwardly imagining just how huge a disaster the boy would be in his class. Thank Merlin, he didn't have any classes now.

"I've heard that everything has been quiet lately. A few incidents but nothing big or important" continued Snape.

"Are you reading muggles newspapers, professor?" asked Harry with an honest surprise.

"Well, yes, Mr. Potter. You know how unreliable the Daily Prophet has been for the last two or three years. Muggles, on the other hand, didn't have any reasons for hiding facts. It is easy enough to discover the true nature of events if you know how and where to look."

"Indeed, Severus. Very clever," Minerva praised his colleague. Severus shot her a brisk smile. The small talk went on for another ten minutes. And when Draco finished his meal and got up, Harry did the same in the hope to escape the upcoming conversation.

"Well, thank you for stopping by, Dudley," he nodded to his cousin. "It was nice to see you, Professor McGonagall." And just when Draco and Harry intended to leave, Minerva stopped them.

"Not so fast, Mr. Potter, there are a few things that we wish to discuss first. You may go to your room, Draco." And when she noticed the uncomfortable look in Malfoy's eyes, she smiled at him kindly and added, "Don't worry, dear. Harry will join you shortly." Draco nodded in response and turned to leave.

"Nice tattoo," send Dudley after him, noticing the snake painted in the blond's left forearm, where the sleeve of his shirt was pulled up a little higher than intended. Malfoy froze in mid-step, went white as fresh snow, and without backward glance ran upstairs.

Harry sighed, feeling anger slowly boiling up inside him for the second time this morning.

"That is not a _tattoo_ , Mr. Dursley. And it was a very rude thing to say. I suggest you keep any remarks on that matter to yourself," said McGonagall sternly.

"What is it?" Dudley asked, baffled. What's the big deal?

"It is the Dark Mark, you stupid brat. Do not ever talk about it with anyone!" spat Snape, deciding that a little fear wouldn't hurt. That so-called boy seemed dozens of times worse than Potter. He had no manners, no self-restriction, was as intelligent as a troll, and was almost the same size as one.

"Sit down, Mr. Potter. We have a long conversation lying ahead of us," interrupted McGonagall.

Harry smirked sadly. He started to hate long conversations.


	7. Nightmares

# Nightmares

The four of them were sitting at the table in complete and awkward silence. Everyone knew what exactly they needed to discuss but no one wanted to be the first to speak.

Dudley was uncomfortable in general. He couldn't help but feel guilty. He was practically betraying his parents now. And he might be not the smartest person on this planet but the fact that he was unwelcome in this crazy house he figured out easily. Unfortunately, when all he wanted was to get this over with already, no one seemed to be paying him any attention.

McGonagall was uncomfortable because of the questions she was determined to ask Harry. And because she couldn't get rid of the guilt that tightened her chest since last night. She knew the boy for so many years… How could she not notice?

Severus, on his turn, for the first time ever was afraid to make eye contact with someone (besides Voldemort, of course). He knew that it was him, who started all this mess. And he also knew that Potter knew that too. Snape felt like he had been caught on snooping in other's dirty underwear. The boy made it abundantly clear that all this was no one's business but his own. And Severus would never care about his wishes if it was the old Potter. The new one still was a complete mystery to him and somehow Snape felt that he was interfering with things he did not understand. And he didn't like it. Severus also knew how Potter must be feeling. There were a few times when he was in the boy's place. The experience that Severus never wished to repeat but somehow it didn't stop him from dragging Potter right in the middle of it. That realization didn't help either.

Harry himself felt all sorts of emotions, starting with embarrassment and finishing with the strange desire to hex everyone present into oblivion. Especially the one in black that was staring at one spot on the wall opposite him. It's like the man was avoiding his gaze, which made Harry chuckle rather loudly. The fact that made this day not as disastrous as the boy feared only a minute ago. Despite his shoulder that troubled him again.

"Harry," McGonagall started, "I know how difficult it must be for you…"

"Do you?" he interrupted. "It seems, professor, that if you truly _did_ know, you wouldn't even come here. Especially with Dudley. I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, I know you just worry about me. But all this is in the past. I've dealt, coped, and moved on a very long time ago. I don't need any help. And I certainly don't want to dredge up the past. There's no point in beating up the dead horse, you know. As much as these people deserve punishment, I… Well, let's just say that I do not care in the slightest what happens to them as long as they are far away from me. And frankly speaking, I've had quite enough violence in my life without this," Harry made a pause and sighed, noticing the defiant expression on McGonagall's face. "I don't think I could stop you if you really want to proceed with this, professor. But you will be doing this without me. I already have a lot to deal with at the moment. Everything I do to help Draco requires a certain amount of strength and I can't afford myself any nightmares that would undoubtedly take place if I delve into certain memories. And if you don't want to have nightmares too, I strongly advise both of you not to ask Dudley any questions regarding that subject. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have something I need to do elsewhere. You're welcome to stay as long as you want, of course, just try not to wander around too much. Kreacher will help you if you need anything."

And with the same deadly calmness with which he spoke just now, Potter stood up, nodded to no one in particular, and slowly left the room, heading upstairs to check on Draco.

"That went well," Severus commented in his usual manner. Somehow after that little speech, the curiosity with which he jumped into solving the 'Harry Potter' puzzle, noticeably diminished. Whatever they did to the boy, it must be bad. And, despite everything, watching Lily's son's sufferings was the last of his desires. Snape already knew how sorely mistaken he always had been about the brat. Not that he will ever admit it though. Besides, his own nightmares were more than enough, thank you very much.

"Severus. How can you just sit there? You see how much Harry's suffering. You were placed here to help, after all!" Snape's eyebrows shot up at McGonagall's tirade.

"What exactly are you expecting me to do? If you haven't noticed, Minerva, Harry Potter is a completely different person. And I assure you, he is not suffering that much. At least not now. I cannot possibly imagine how strong he really is. And something's telling me that if he says he moved on, it is indeed the case. There isn't much we can do now when he is of age anyway."

"He is of age only in the wizarding world. In the muggle world, he is not until the end of July. And I want these people to be punished. Please, Severus, help me. He went through so much for us, and we let him down so badly…" And her pleading eyes glared right into his. Severus sighed. This insufferable woman…

"Fine," he cut. "But only because I owe you for your help a few days ago." McGonagall smiled. She always knew she could rely on this man.

"Thank you, Severus." But Snape only waved her off.

"So, Mr. Dursley. It appears that we do need your assistance after all." Dudley's eyes widened when he caught the man's intense gaze. There was only a small number of people who didn't shiver under it. Very small. "I suggest you start from the beginning."

"Eer… I… I don't…"

 _"What a waste of time…"_ thought Severus, breathing in deeply.

"How often the abuse took place?"

Dudley looked at the man and quickly dropped his gaze again, flushing. "E-every day…" he said in a very small voice.

"When did it start? At what age?"

"I d-don't know. I think… S-since he was brought to us. Probably." Dudley's voice trembled greatly and was only a bit above a whisper. Minerva clasped her mouth with her hand in shock.

"How intense?" continued Snape doing his best to ignore the strange sharp feeling in his chest.

"Very. S-s-som...sometimes. M-most of the time."

"I need specific details, Mr. Dursley," said Severus, quite annoyed with that boy's simple inadequate answers. "I do not have all day."

"Severus, you're frightening the boy," interfered McGonagall.

"The boy is frightened anyway, Minerva. But if you don't like my way of questioning, you are always welcome to do it yourself."

The woman narrowed her eyes but proceeded as suggested. She turned her head in Dudley's direction and placed a hand on his shoulder in a soothing manner.

"Dudley, I understand that it is not an easy conversation for you. For all of us. But Professor Snape is right, we need something more specific. Can you try and tell us about any day you remember the most?"

"W-what will happen to them? You w-won't hurt them, will you? Please, do-don't hurt them..." begged Dudley, looking into McGonagall's eyes. Minerva was taken aback by the sudden plea and glanced at her equally surprised colleague.

"I don't know why you assumed that we were going to hurt them but I assure you, that is not the case." It was a lie. Minerva _wanted_ to rip their heads off. But of course, she wouldn't… "So, can you tell us? Dudley."

But the boy just stared blankly at his own quivering hands constantly repeating _'please, no, please'_ as some sort of a mantra.

"Tremendous success. Congratulations," said Snape, raising from the table. "I think there is no point in keeping him here anymore, Minerva. He won't tell anything even slightly useful. So I recommend you to take him back and quickly before his _family_ alerts the whole country about the kidnapping of their dear son."

"Yes, I suppose you're right. But what are we going to do now? We can't just leave everything as it is and let those people get away with this."

"We'll talk about it later. Get him home." Minerva nodded and also got up. She reached for Dudley to indicate that he needed to do the same but the moment her fingers touched his upper arm, the boy jerked away and ran out, awaking the portrait again with his thunderous footsteps. He made it through the front door and off the porch on the whole speed. Which was a mistake… Because the ward that Harry placed around the house was firmly in place, and Dudley crashed into it, bouncing back a few steps and falling onto the ground unconscious for the second time in one hour.

Harry was in his lab with Draco, who was helping him prepare the ingredients for a Dreamless sleep when they heard Mrs-fucking-Black screams. Sighing deeply, Potter put the knife back on the workbench, told the blond to wait for him here, and exited the room to check the new ordeal. He was in no mood for this crazy old bitch today. Harry walked to the portrait and stopped right in front of it.

"One more word and I will set this fucking portrait on fiendfyre," he said slowly with an icy low voice. Hate and cold determination in his eyes along with the power Harry radiated now made Walburga cut her hateful shrieks in the middle and shut up. Potter nodded and turned away only to catch the pair of astonished glances from the kitchen entrance. Ignoring them, Harry walked out of the house. Dudley was lying on the back with his arms and legs spread around and his nose bleeding. It was clearly broken. Harry got closer to his cousin and scanned his body. The boy thankfully didn't have other injuries, so Potter fixed his nose and looked back on the porch, where Snape and McGonagall stood.

"I assume there wasn't much help from him," Harry smirked, pointing at Dudley. "I'm taking him back at Privet Drive." Minerva gave a small nod in response and both boys vanished from sight. Harry apparited straight to Dudley's room, woke him up, and while his cousin was slowly getting back to senses, apparited back to the lab, where Draco finished cutting the last ingredient.

Malfoy was waiting for him at the same spot and sighed with relief when Potter reappeared in the room.

"I thought your house was under Fidelius charm," Draco said quietly, obviously worried.

"Of course it is. My house is under many protection charms. And I'm controlling all of them, so I can do pretty much everything I want," smiled Harry.

"Show-off," smirked the blond. "What was your cousin doing here?"

"A wild guess? Snape suspected something about my relationship with the Dursleys, got curious, I suppose, and asked McGonagall if she knows anything. But I don't think, he expected her to bring Dudley here. Am I right, professor?"

Snape froze at the threshold.

"I did not."

Draco jerked a few steps back at the sound of Severus' voice but caught Harry's reassuring smile and calmed down a bit.

"Any luck with Dudley?" asked Potter turning around to face Snape.

"No. Your cousin has an intellect of a troll, Potter," said Severus, remembering his earlier thought.

"Really? I haven't noticed." Snape ignored the obvious sarcasm. He needed the boy in a good mood because Minerva practically forced him to try to convince the brat to talk to her. And he always kept his promises no matter what, regardless of his own feelings about it.

"That's why professor McGonagall asked me to talk to you."

"No," replied Harry simply. "I don't have anything new to say about this, sir. Consider the subject closed." And he turned back to his cauldron to finally start working on the potion. "Unless there is something else you'd like to speak with me about," he added at the last moment when Snape almost exited the room, stopping him. "For example, how could it be that someone who cares for his own privacy so much, unable to respect the exact same wish of others."

A wave of anger shot through the entire Severus' body as he whirled around. "Watch. Your. Tone. Potter," hissed the man with all malice he possessed and quickly glided out of the lab.

— - ♦ - —

The next few days flew by uneventful. Harry wrote one letter to the ministry asking about NEWTs and received three: from Ginny, from Hermione, and one from Shacklebolt, informing him that Lucius' location has been identified and Kingsley with the two of his most trusted Aurors, who also were in the Order previously, are planning the operation to capture the bastard. He already knew that Macnair and Mulciber were found dead in the basement of the house where Draco was tortured due to the note he got from Shacklebolt in a few hours after the meeting. Harry tried to reconnect with Malfoy's mind but in vain. And his hunch was telling him that the man was most likely dead rather than just unconscious. Potter wrote a quick answer and gave it to Kreacher to deliver it. They couldn't use owls here with all the wards around.

Hermione's letter was as usual mostly about the upcoming school year. She and Ron have finally received their letters informing that if they want, they could attend Hogwarts for another year in order to prepare for NEWTs. And, of course, Hermione was happy about it. Ron...not so much but he would attend too. He was grumpy all those days and Hermione asked Harry to talk to him. She also wrote about the trip to Australia they've planned for the next weekend to find her parents and try to restore their memories. The girl asked Harry if he also would come. Potter hated to upset his friend. But he had to do it, so he grabbed the quill and wrote:

_\  
\ Dear Hermione!  
\   
\ _ _I'm so glad that all of you are okay. And, of course, I'll talk to Ron, don't worry about it.  
\ I don't want to lose one of my best friends.  
\   
_ _\ And I'm sorry to tell you this but I won't attend school anymore. I wrote to the ministry  
\ and asked them if I could pass the NEWTs this summer. It's just that I have some really  
\ important stuff to do that can't wait for the whole year and I can't do it from school  
\ grounds. Besides, I already know everything they're gonna teach us and I don't want to  
\ waist a whole year. So… I am sorry. But we will still see each other, I promise.  
\   
_ _\ I'm glad to hear that you're gonna have your family back, it's wonderful! I don't know  
\ now if I would be able to come with you though. I'll tell you later about it, okay? If I  
\ couldn't come and something goes wrong with your parents' memory restoration, bring  
\ them here, I'll gladly help you.  
\   
_ _\ Harry.  
\   
_

He also wrote an answer to Ginny's letter and asked Kreacher to deliver them too. Aside from that these days were almost boring.

Draco even got used to Snape constantly wandering around the house, and didn't flinch every time he heard his voice or saw the man. He hasn't had a single nightmare or flashback so far and due to this fact, Malfoy couldn't help but be almost cheerful and unimaginably grateful to Harry. They spent most of the time together: talking, playing chess, working in the lab on some potions. But as time went on, Potter seemed to become more and more silent. Closed. Which made Draco nervous. Something was clearly happening and the blond couldn't figure out what. There weren't any guests or even owls, so the possibility that the bad news was the reason for the change in his new friend's mood was very low. This indicated that something happened _inside_ the house and Draco simply was unaware of it. Which made him even more nervous.

Severus kept quiet. His godson seemed to be doing fine. Too much fine, to tell the truth, which meant that the situation was either very good or immensely bad. The experience was telling Snape that they will more likely turn out to be dealing with option number two. Though, unwillingly as it was, Severus did hope that he's wrong. If Potter indeed managed to cope with his own case so well, perhaps, he was the best shot Draco had. So the man tried not to interrupt anything that may be going on and basically did what was asked of him originally — he just lived in the house. Watched, listened to everything around, and wisely kept his mouth shut. He didn't try to question Potter anymore, deciding to leave it be for the moment. McGonagall dropped her hopes to convince the boy to press charges after Severus told her that Potter won't attend Hogwarts this year. Snape didn't know what plans Potter had, but he did notice that the boy was acting more and more strangely. Something happened. Snape was sure of it. And the fact that the brat hasn't deemed it necessary to inform him, disturbed the professor. Potter always tried to deal with problems by himself and so far none of it end well.

So on Saturday evening, Severus found Potter in his lab, sitting beside the workbench with his eyes closed. Like he was meditating. Harry knew the man was watching him but he was working on his own version of Pain reliever, which required extreme concentration. The process was almost complete, he needed only another few moments. And Harry gestured to Snape, asking him to wait a bit.

Severus understood the signs Potter waved him and decided to take a look at the potion in the small cauldron that stood behind the boy. Judging by the ingredients on the table it was supposed to be a simple Pain reliever but the potion itself didn't look like it. It was familiar though… It was the potion that Dumbledore was constantly giving him since the Dark Lord's return. The invention of one of his old friends. Even after Dumbledore's death, that potion kept appearing in the round office every time he needed it. Saved him a great deal of suffering through these three years. Severus tried to reconstruct it but wasn't able to identify one of the ingredients. Frustrating, really. But if Potter knew… He felt a pang of jealousy. So Dumbledore told _the brat_ but not him.

"Where did you get this recipe, Mr. Potter?" he asked when the boy finally opened his eyes.

"It's a 'Pain reliever', sir. Well, the modified a bit Pain reliever but the recipe is still the exact same that you taught us at school."

"Are you taking me for a fool? I know this potion. There is one more ingredient in there besides the usual."

Harry eyed the professor before him trying to decide whether he should tell him now or wait a tad longer. Sighing, he made the decision and just went for it. "Professor, you see, I always loved potions. It's really interesting. I was looking forward to learning it since the moment I bought my first book. All that time I was practicing in secret because I couldn't allow myself to do good in class. We were supposed to be antagonists and my low grade helped with it extensively. And in my third year, there was one moment when I thought... What would happen if I combine the magic I use with some potions? I've read a few books on muggle's chemistry and gave it a try. This was the first one with which I succeeded," Harry pointed at the cauldron. "So Dumbledore couldn't possibly tell you about the last ingredient when you asked him. Because there isn't one."

Severus just stared at Harry wide-eyed in silence. All he ever knew about this mysterious friend of Dumbledore's was that it was 'he' and that he was young but exceptionally talented. In fact, Severus even started to refer to him as a friend during the last year. Because every time he limped in agony through the castle grounds towards his office after another Death Eater's gathering, he knew that the fresh dose of this simple but ingenious potion waited for him at the top right drawer of his table. It made him feel like somebody out there, whoever he was, still believed in him. It gave him hope. Helped getting up every morning and be the big monster.

And it was _Potter_.

The boy he hated for many reasons helped him live through the most difficult time in his life.

Snape looked in those green eyes. And suddenly he saw it… It's not James, who was sitting before him. Not even Lily. It was a strong and exceptionally wise young man, misunderstood and mistreated, but still willing to do all he could for those near him. A man Severus never knew.

And guilt overwhelmed him.

The silence became tangible. Uncomfortable, Harry got up, summoned the set of vials he usually used, and started to fill them, moving very slow. He was so tired… All he wanted was to fall asleep right on the spot. But Harry knew that it wouldn't be of much help.

"Is there something you wanted to talk to me about, professor?" asked Harry to distract himself, pulling Snape out of his daydreaming.

"Um… Yes, Mr. Potter. Actually, it is." On the way to the lab, Severus intended to just demand the truth out of the boy. But now the state of shock he was clearly still in, made the man rethink the previous decision. He strode to the other side of the table at sat down on an empty chair.

"You are very quiet these days, Mr. Potter. And clearly in a bad mood. Which made me think that something had happened and you've simply forgotten to tell me. Well, now I am here and ready to listen." Snape shifted a bit on the chair to make himself more comfortable and show Potter that he's not going anywhere.

Harry sighed. Just this morning he was convincing Draco that everything is fine. Now he has to do the same all over again. And Snape was right: he did not have any desire or strength for it.

"Nothing had happened, sir, trust me. I wouldn't hide anything important from you."

"Potter, you are lying. Don't you think I can see that?"

"Fine," he said a little bit too harsh. "How do you find Draco these days, professor?"

"Disturbingly good," replied Severus, wondering what's it has to do with his question.

"Exactly. He does not have nightmares. He does not have flashbacks. He is perfectly calm. And all of it is happening because since the moment he woke after I got him here last Monday, I'm maintaining a connection with his mind and blocking all that crap _twenty-four hours a day_. And now, as if it wasn't enough already, I have to deal with nightmares every night, thanks to you and McGonagall. I can't take Dreamless sleep constantly because it interrupts my connection with Draco's mind, and I need to work harder, so in the morning I feel even more tired not only emotionally but also physically. So, answering your question, professor: nothing has happened. I'm just exhausted, that's all."

Snape's eyebrows slowly crawled upward. Harry took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to be rude."

"It's fine," nodded the man after a long moment. And it was Harry's turn to be surprised. "For how long you are planning to keep that connection?"

"Well, there is a way to deal with those horrible memories permanently. It's tricky and not particularly pleasant but it will work. He will be able to heal completely without PTSD or anything like that. A full recovery. I'll talk to him about it this evening."

"Can I be present? I must admit, that mysterious art you're using is very interesting. Could you, perhaps, tell me more about it? When you have time."

Harry took the now filled vials and placed them on the top shelf of the first cabinet, where all of his potions stood. He was thoroughly shocked by Snape's unexpected politeness. Was it his earlier revelation about who was brewing the modified Pain reliever that made the man change his attitude towards Harry? It certainly seemed like the only realistic option in these circumstances.

Severus watched Potter as he quietly made his way to the cabinet and placed the set on the shelf beside the vial with the boy's memories that he had tried to convince Snape to see a few days ago. And he couldn't tear his gaze of it. Sudden curiosity took over the man and he couldn't remember anymore why was he so against watching them.

"Sure," said Harry.

"I'm sorry?"

"Sure, you can be present if you want," repeated the boy smirking at the perplexed expression on the professor's face.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, sir." And Harry's gaze fell on the fresh Daily prophet that he wanted to read after finishing with the Pain reliever. Potter took the paper and his eyes widened when he looked at the front page. _Who could've done that? Malfoy?_

"Have you seen today's Daily Prophet, professor?" asked the boy holding the paper up, so the man would be able to see the headline.

"No, why?" replied Severus before looking at the page.

_\  
\ FIENDFYRE BURNED DOWN THE MUGGLE TOWN  
\   
_

_"It could not be…"_ he thought. _" No, it just couldn't."_

"Is it Cokeworth, sir? Your home town."


	8. Burn, baby, burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war is over, but not all enemies are defeated. Strange things start to happen around Harry and those who are close to him, and once again he must step forward to fight.
> 
> Who are they? What do they want? Why are they doing this? Many questions, but no answers.
> 
> Super!Potter. Snape's alive. Abuse. Post-canon.
> 
> There's a side-story for this fic. It is called 'Mirror: the war', and it's about Harry's school years. A background of sorts :)  
> I work on them both at the same time. Be so kind and check it out if you're interested! :)

## Burn, baby, burn

This was slowly developing into a very bad habit. Shock crashed Severus' body with such force that all he could do at that moment was numbly standing in the middle of the room. Looking at the only other person around with exceedingly obvious despair swirling in his obsidian eyes. It was his home. Yes, right, he never really liked the place (more like hated actually) but still… It was everything he ever had. Some of Snape's belongings were at Hogwarts, some here, but most of them are laying patiently at the Spinner's End. Had been laying. Severus' precious books, his notes, Lily's letters, photos, rare ingredients, all his stuff. All gone…

Severus sprung into motion before he could think. He couldn't just stand here. He won't. Maybe there's a chance to save something. Anything. In four big strides, Severus crossed the lab but when he reached the door, it slammed loudly, locking him inside.

"I'm not letting you out, professor."

Snape spun around. He totally forgot that Potter was here.

"There's nothing you could do, sir, besides getting yourself killed."

Harry stood firmly near the workbench and watched how Severus twisted the doorknob, trying to get out. "Let me out," he hissed dangerously after a few fruitless attempts, still facing the door.

"You can't help it, sir. Please, professor." Harry summoned one of the vials from the cabinet and slowly approached Snape. "Sir." The man turned around. But there wasn't any anger in his eyes… Pure panic. Harry has never seen him like that. There must be something _really_ important in his house.

"Calming Draught," he said holding the vial to Severus, who took it with a slightly trembling hand.

"You don't understand… It's not just a house. It's everything. Everything…" whispered Snape. Harry sighed. _Shit. How he was fucking supposed to just sit here and watch the breakdown of one of the strongest men he knew?_ _Crap. His shoulder burned. Crap, crap, crap._

Snape eyed Potter carefully. Calming Draught helped to clear the mind, and now Severus felt utterly stupid.

"Fine. But I'm going with you. Wait for me here, I'll tell Draco and get back," finally replied Harry, heading to the exit where Snape still stood. "May I?" Potter gestured for the professor to step aside and then left the room.

They both knew there isn't much point in going to the Cokeworth now. But Harry was determined to do that anyway and so was Severus. Even if it was just to give Snape the opportunity to see everything with his own eyes and move on. Harry would certainly want it if it was his house. And when something will undoubtedly go wrong, Potter was more than capable to protect them both.

After five minutes of explanations and constant attempts to reassure Malfoy that everything will be fine, Harry (to his surprise) found Severus leaning to the wall near the door just outside the lab. He seemed lost in thought.

"Professor?" Snape's dark eyes darted upward. "Ready?"

The man nodded and Harry apparited them to Cokeworth.

— - ♦ - —

The first thing that they felt was a wave of heat that hit them. Enormous tongues of flame roared just a few feet away, getting closer with every second. Thick black smoke blocked the sky, leaving fire as the only source of light. Loud crackling filled the air around shutting off all other sounds. If hell existed, they were in the middle of it.

Severus and Harry stood on the road in the small ring that was still clean of the fire and judging by the speed with which the said fire was getting closer, they only had a few minutes before it consumed them. Harry closed the eyes and focused. He needed to scan the area to find out what state it was currently in, what he could do about it, and maybe try and locate Snape's house. He needed to expand the radius of his reach as much as possible, therefore he grabbed Severus' elbow to tie himself to reality and dove to the deepest layer of his own mind.

Severus tried to jerk his arm from the tight grip of Potter's fingers. But then he noticed the boy's closed eyes and unimaginably (in these circumstances) relaxed pose and decided that he was probably doing that for a reason. Since he knew literally nothing about that art the boy was using, it was best not to intervene. So he just waited. And waited. And waited. The heat became almost unbearable, which made the man nervous. _How long freaking Potter is going to brood here? Until they both get boiled in their own sweat? Or, maybe, fried in flames?_ Severus decided to give him five more seconds and if he's still not awake, apparited them both somewhere outside of fire's reach.

But he didn't need to. The very next moment they stood in the large opening near the small dirty river. It was surprisingly cold here. Severus didn't know if he should be amazed by the way Potter was managing apparition and ask about it or not. Probably shouldn't. He quickly snatched his wand out of pocket, cast a few warming and drying spells, and looked expectantly at the boy. Harry was smiling. Actually smiling.

"And what, pray tell, is so funny, Mr. Potter?" asked Snape frowning. That boy was absolutely completely thoroughly outrageous.

"It is not a fiendfyre," said Harry still beaming.

"What?"

"It's not a fiendfyre. And it is not unstoppable. If I find the source and quench it, the whole flame will extinguish. And if whatever it is that's so precious to you in there," he pointed at the nearest house, "is not the source, it will be unharmed. I'm ninety-five percent sure of it."

"How can you tell?"

"I can feel the magic inside and outside of me. Every spell feels different. I had the chance to be near fiendfyre during the battle in Hogwarts and that experience is very unlikely to be forgotten. Anyhow, this fire has a different nature."

"Such as?"

It's not really a fire, for one. It is a tiny cursed spark that spreads an illusion of flames, so to speak. That's why they could not be extinguished. Look around. It is all burning but none of the houses or trees or cars are crashed." Snape darted a few more thorough glances at the surroundings. Potter was right. Everything he could see was caught with fierce fire but in one piece. "And I also noticed that these flames feel exactly like Crucio. I believe I do not need to explain the nature of _that_ curse to you." Severus wried a sarcastic smile.

"Oh, please, do explain."

If Snape thought he could affront Potter with that remark, he was mistaken.

"Well, as you know, the Cruciatus curse does not damage it's victim physically unless cast repeatedly for a long time. This fire basically is Cruciatus in a different form. Feels much severe though…"

Severus glanced at the flames. Even if it doesn't inflict greater pain than Crucio, the possibility of actually being able to _see_ what is going on with you seemed much worse. "So do you know where the source is?"

"Yes. It's right outside your house. Someone didn't want to disturb your wards."

"And how do you know it's my house?" Had the boy spied on him?

"There are only two warded houses around here. One of them — Lily's, I assume — was abandoned a long time ago. And the other is this. I suppose you do show up here from time to time."

Severus nodded. Why the boy was calling his mother by her first name? It was strange. He made a mental note to ask about it later.

"And you, of course, know how to extinguish it."

"Em, no, actually, I don't. Not yet. If I'd tried to find that out earlier, we'd both lay there whirling in agony right now. Just give me a moment."

"Tell me you're not _going_ there…"

"How mental do you think I am?" murmured Harry under his breath, shaking head in response.

The boy seated himself down, placed both palms on the warm grass, and closed his eyes. Normally he could do what he intended to do on the background of his mind but now he needed all the concentration he could get because he was still linked to Draco and if he'll lose that bond now, the consequences for Malfoy Jr. will be violent. And, besides that, it would speed up the whole process awfully.

Harry relaxed, as usual, turning the outside world off. This procedure became so automatic, he could do it under Cruciatus. Diving deep inside himself, Potter reached out with his senses towards the Snape's house. Flames did not feel particularly pleasant even in this state but Harry easily ignored it. He found the source of fire instantly and focused on quenching it.

The next second three things happened at once with so much speed that no one would be able to identify which followed which: Harry jumped up spinning around, pulling Snape behind his back and raising a last-second shield; a vicious blow of stunning spell threw them to the other side of the river straight into the fierce fire; a wild scream broke through the roar of flames. Harry sensed the attack a tad too late to be able to block properly in time. And that was saying a lot. And now as tongues of fire were licking his entire body, he was consumed by the agony such absolute that Harry struggled to breathe. He had never felt anything like this before. Screams to his left died as abruptly as they started. Severus, overwhelmed by pain, lost consciousness and lay in the old dried silt as a black heap of bones. Harry glimpsed at the man quickly but there wasn't much he could do for him now.

Instead, Potter concentrated on locking the pain down in the depth of his mind and constructing the strongest shield he could to protect them both from the upcoming attack, which followed almost immediately after the first but from the other side. But now Harry was ready. The bone-crashing wave of magic hit the shield making it crack. And then another. And the other one. All Harry could do was endlessly replenishing his protection, diving more and more deep inside himself once again. He was becoming desperate and very exhausted.

And suddenly he felt the magic building up inside his chest on its own accord. The tension raised and raised and raised uncontrollably and when got to its highest point, exploded with unimaginable strength, sending a wave of power in every direction. And then everything was gone. The fire had stopped, leaving behind only the icy fingerprints of cold air. And attackers, whoever they were, disappeared from Harry's radar.

Potter found himself sitting on the ground shaking wickedly. Severus still lay beside the boy and was also trembling. Harry apparited them to Snape's house and levitated the man onto one of the couches. It was time to take care of the screaming nerves, so Harry summoned the set of Pain Reliever, so conveniently brewed earlier, and not without difficulties downed one. Immediately feeling relief and numbness due to a very large dose he took, he stopped shaking, got closer to Severus, and slightly clapped to his cheek.

"Professor."

No response.

"Professor."

Again nothing. Harry quickly scanned the man's body to see if there's any serious damage. Aside from clearly shocked nerves, he found none, which was good. And probably it wasn't such a good idea to wake him now.

Harry was very curious to walk around the house and take a look at his professor's home but it felt rather like an intrusion. Potter dismissed the idea and apparited them back to Grimmauld place before crowds of journalists noticed that the fire is gone. They definitely did not need any more press.

— - ♦ - —

Severus woke up two hours later in his bed shaking violently like after exceptionally nasty meeting with the Dark Lord and it took him a few moments to remember that that bastard was dead. He glanced around the room and his gaze fell on the vial with the well-known potion to which a small note was attached. _"Drink it all. It'll help. HP,"_ it said.

Snape downed the potion without questions and immediately felt the tremors gone. Nice warmth surged through his entire body leaving slight prickling sensation in the arms and feet, considerably lifting up the mood. Severus had a hundred different questions and with the firm intention on getting answers for all of them, he lazily strode downstairs looking for Potter.

He found the two boys sitting in the living room. Draco was playing chess against himself in the corner and didn't even notice when Snape came in. It was a good sign. Potter was half lying on the sofa deep in thoughts.

"May I?" asked Severus approaching the boy. Harry woke from his haze.

"Yeah, sure." He waited 'till Snape took a seat on the other side of the couch. "I bet you have a lot of questions. But first I wanted to discuss with Draco that treatment I told you about in the morning. You said you were interested." Harry's voice was so quiet, Severus could see how desperately he was trying to hold it together and not to collapse right here. The previous fight clearly did not make things better for him.

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Potter." The boy nodded and turned to Malfoy.

"Draco, can I talk to you for a moment?" Draco, who's been quietly listening to the conversation in the room from the moment Harry mentioned his name, looked up from the chessboard, got up reluctantly, and relocated himself to the big soft chair near the couch where Harry and Professor Snape were sitting. He started to get nervous.

"Draco," started Harry, "it's about your healing process. You're doing incredibly well. But I cannot say the same about myself."

"What do you mean?" Malfoy shifted uncomfortably on his seat.

"You know what I mean. It is very hard to miss, I guess," chuckled Potter scarcely. "I'm talking about that mind connection. I'm beaten, man. Don't know, how much longer I can hold it. Which means that I won't be able to block that stuff in your head. But I have a solution. Permanent solution." Draco's eyes darted between Harry and Snape, who was also looking at Potter. Malfoy waited for that moment for days, afraid that Harry will abandon him when he reached his limit. Thankfully it seemed not to be the case and Draco mentally kicked himself for those thoughts. It was Potter, of course, he'd never do such a thing.

"What solution?"

"I will cut all feelings and emotions out of your memories. You will remember but it would be like a movie or something. Like it happened with somebody else, not you."

"And how would you do it, exactly?" asked Severus.

"Well, it's hard to explain. I will pull forward each memory from the beginning of those dreadful weeks, then Draco and I will relive it together with only one difference — I will be the one, who's feeling all this, not him. And before you ask professor, I can't explain how to separate emotions from images. It's too subtle to put into words. I can show you if you want, but don't know how useful it could be because it's not really the basic stuff."

Snape narrowed his gaze but nodded anyway. The boy was probably right. Whatever art this is, it clearly is not an average level and will require a certain amount of effort to grasp.

"So, Draco, what do you think?" asked Harry.

"I don't know… Can I think about it?" replied Malfoy quietly.

"Sure. Take your time."

"Mr. Potter, can I have a word with you?" asked Severus standing up.

"Of course," Harry also got up, feeling yet another long conversation coming. But this time he was kind of grateful for it because it would distract him from thoughts about Draco's memories that he signed up to live through. "Lead the way."

In a minute they were both seated in the kitchen. Severus tried to build a line of questions he wanted to ask and was currently deciding which one should come first. A hard task indeed.

"Mr. Potter…"

"Harry. Please, professor, call me Harry."

"As you wish. So, Harry…"

How strange it was to call the boy by his first name…

"As I understand, we were attacked today? What happened to my house?"

"It is perfectly fine, don't worry. And yes, we were attacked. All I know is that there were two of them and they definitely were using the same art I do. I suspect that the fire was also their deed… It only makes sense because your house was the center of it. It was a trap. Maybe for you, maybe for me, it's hard to say. But now, when I think back… I did sense them around here a couple of times. At the far edge but still. They don't need to get close to watch the house."

Snape's heart fell. But he pulled himself together quickly.

"Can you describe your fight in detail?" Harry nodded and told Snape his side of the evening's events.

"It is weird though…" said Potter.

"What is?"

"That magical outburst. It was accidental."

"And?" Severus shook his head exasperated.

"And it couldn't possibly do any harm. Not to them. It was a wave of pure energy, without form or particular purpose. All it could do was knock them off their feet. Top."

"But they stopped the attack…" realized Snape. Bizarre indeed.

"Yes."

Severus couldn't quite wrap his head around new information. Everything Potter… Harry. Everything Harry told him was logical. And possible. But still. They literally just got rid of one crazy son of a bitch and only to have another two? What do they even want? Everything they did so far didn't make any sense if put together. Ridiculous revenge for the Dark Lord's demise? No, that can't be the reason. If the Dark Lord had them as allies, he would be unstoppable. Unless they were hiding. Which does not sound rational either because… Well, just because.

"Professor, I think that it would be better if you and Draco stay inside the house for now. I placed an extra ward around so they wouldn't have a chance to spy on either of us. It is three feet width anti-magical barrier. So if you do go out, don't panic when you feel that your magic is no longer with you."

Harry thought about it since the moment they got back from Cokeworth. If the house is being watched, he needed to hide its inhabitants. But every ward he could think of was so easily manipulated… As simple as _Lumos_. There is no point in having any of them. And then he remembered his little forest trip and tried to recreate that anti-magical barrier as best as he could. Harry wasn't at all certain that this precaution would have the desired effect but it was worth a try. Even despite the obvious flaw — Potter himself was no longer able to keep an eye on the 'outside world'. They were isolated.

Snape reluctantly agreed to Harry's opinion that they, indeed, had to stay inside for their own sake. The conversation eventually died, leaving the two of them to linger in uncomfortable silence. Severus had one more topic he wanted to discuss but the didn't know how Potter would respond to his request. Severus kicked himself mentally. He was never the one to postpone anything. He looked at the boy, who seemed to understand Snape's issue and waited patiently. It was like the boy was reading his thoughts. And Severus truly hoped not, for Potter's own safety.

"I'm sure you remember your earlier promise to elaborate about that mysterious art of yours. Harry," he started. Potter nodded in agreement. "In the light of recent events, I was wondering if, maybe, you would not only talk about it but show something useful."

"You want me to teach you?" Harry was amazed and, frankly speaking, did a very poor job in hiding it.

" _I do not_ , Mr. Potter," hissed Severus. "But I want to survive this, whatever it is, and seeing as you're the only available source of knowledge on the matter, I don't have much choice. I need to be able to protect myself."

Harry's gaze instantly became weary and cold. This art was very difficult to master. And he wasn't sure if there's any point to even start because they didn't have time at all. But he wasn't going to deny this opportunity to the professor either. Harry never had anyone who could help him, but Snape did. And without the necessity to discover and self-teach things, everything might go much quicker. Or at least he hoped it would.

"I'm going to be honest, professor. This art is far from simple. I've been learning it for many years and still have a way to go. So I need you to listen very carefully. If you are to do this prepare yourself that it could easily take years even with guidance. Also, you need to be prepared to cut off all your irritation and witty remarks and _do as you're told_. The ability to completely restrain yourself is the foundation of it all. Know that during these lessons I will be your superior and not the other way around."

Severus watched the boy. Merlin knows how much he wanted to wipe this expression from the stupid brat's face. Anger boiled inside him and threatened to spill over the edge. But the truth was that he _really_ needed Potter. _"Shit…"_ he shrugged inwardly.

"Fine," finally said Severus after a long pause, deciding that if this is what the brat wanted, he had to play along. "When do we start, _professor_?" But Harry ignored the man's sarcasm completely.

"After I'll deal with Draco's memories, I think. Shouldn't take longer than two weeks."

"Two weeks?"

"Well, yeah. I need to watch two full weeks of memories, sir. Who knows how much they let him sleep. And how many nightmares he had when he did. Plus it's not likely that Draco will make a decision overnight. And I also would need some sleep as well. But. The great thing is, you can start practicing now."

"Can I?"

"Yes. You've no doubt noticed how I used to withdraw into myself a few times. In order to make everything work, it is essential that you are able to do it as well. This technique is similar to Occlumency but not exactly the same. I will show it to you in our first lesson but before that, I need you to meditate. To control yourself and relax as fully and quickly as possible. It will help you greatly."

Snape nodded in acknowledgment and started to evacuate himself out of the room. He simply couldn't bear it anymore.

"Professor," Harry's voice caught up with him at the threshold. "It doesn't need to be awkward. But it will if you make it so."

 _"Stupid, arrogant, spoiled, insolent brat!"_ thought Severus on the way back to his bedroom. _"How dare he act like this with him! It is unbelievable!"_ Indeed so. Promising himself that he will put an end to this behavior, Snape calmed down a bit. But he couldn't stop thinking about Potter. How easier his life would be without Potters in it. Elaborating on that, Severus hasn't noticed how his train of thoughts brought him down to the lab instead of his room. When did he change the direction?

The abandoned Daily Prophet laid on the desk. Severus took it and scanned the front page. The shocking article seemed now boring and without second thought Snape turned a few more pages. Nothing interesting as usual. Truly useless paper. The man decided to go but before he did so, he involuntarily looked around the room. And his eyes fell on the vial with Potters memories once more.

It could be vital that he knew his own past and Potter's part in it, no doubt. For how long he could linger in his own denial? No, it had to stop now. Determined to find out the truth, Severus strode to the cabinet, took the vial, and called for Kreacher. He needed his pensieve.

After a few more minutes Severus took a deep breath and dived in the first memory.


	9. Friend or foe?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war is over, but not all enemies are defeated. Strange things start to happen around Harry and those who are close to him, and once again he must step forward to fight.
> 
> Who are they? What do they want? Why are they doing this? Many questions, but no answers.
> 
> Super!Potter. Snape's alive. Abuse. Post-canon.
> 
> There's a side-story for this fic. It is called 'Mirror: the war', and it's about Harry's school years. A background of sorts :)  
> I work on them both at the same time. Be so kind and check it out if you're interested! :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The following chapter is basically a list of some of the Potter's memories of Snape through Harry's Hogwarts years. So those of you who were interested in these details — you're welcome :)
> 
> I decided that Severus is watching them through Harry's eyes and not present in the scenes himself, as it was in the books because I needed him to be able to hear the boy's thoughts (which was important because of Harry's closed personality). So in order to separate Potter's and Snape's thoughts, everything that Severus thinks would be written _[this way]_. Everything that Harry thinks — _"the usual way"_.
> 
> By the way, those of you who's been reading this fic from the very beginning would already know one of the memories, since it originally was a part of the first chapter as a flashback. But I thought that if I place it here, it'd be more logical.
> 
> So... Hope, you'll like it!

## Friend or foe?

"Enter." **(1)**

Harry opened the door to the Headmaster's office and confidently strode inside. _"Well, now, aren't we looking innocent…"_

"Oh, Mr. Potter. How can I help you?" asked Dumbledore smiling warmly. "Lemon drop?"

_"Come on, man, you can't actually be so nauseatingly nice. It's creepy." [Pff… Indeed.]_

"No, thank you, professor. I'd like to ask you a few questions, if I may." Dumbledore raised an eyebrow but nodded. "Yes, of course. What did you wish to talk about?"

"Professor Snape."

"Hmm," Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I must say, my boy, you surprised me again. Has something happened that picked your interest?"

"You see, sir, today was my first potions class. And professor Snape acted rather oddly during the whole period." _[Oh, did I?]_ "... sure that we've never met before I got here but the professor seemed to be, well, not exactly hateful towards me but certainly far from indifferent. I wouldn't ask if I wasn't convinced that it has something to do with my family's past. There's no other explanation." _[And just why do you have to be so smart…]_ Dumbledore shifted uncomfortably.

"Well, Harry, why don't you sit down first?"

 _"Why don't you just answer…"_ But Harry sat on the indicated chair anyway.

"I have to admit, Mr. Potter, that I didn't expect you to ask this, though, I should have, probably. You are, by all means, one of the most observant young men I have ever had the pleasure to be acquainted with. Which is why I won't lie to you. But I also can't answer. You see, some time ago I made a promise not to discuss the present matter with anyone, so, unless you have professor Snape's permission, I shall remain silent."

Potter eyed the Headmaster carefully and shut down another attempt to penetrate his mind. _"You old coot. Get over yourself. Let's see how would you like that yourself…"_ Harry probed, not too subtly, the edge of Dumbledore's mind and smirked at the flicker of surprise in the man's eyes, followed quickly by immediately raised shields. _"There. Didn't like it, did you?" [Unbelievable. How old the brat is in this memory? No way he could be a legilimens at eleven.]_

"Professor Snape is a complicated person, Harry," Dumbledore paused for a second, "He is that double spy I told you about the other day. His position is tricky, difficult, and dangerous. The war…"

_"Why are you always talking about the war? It's not what I'm asking."_

"…completely. I trust him with my life."

"So, you care about him?"

"Yes. I do. Deeply. As I care for everybody else. As I care for you, my boy."

_"Doubt it somehow…"_

"Professor…"

"Oh, please, Harry, call me Albus."

"Um, fine, Albus. Was it Professor Snape, to whom you've made that promise?"

"Yes, it was," nodded Dumbledore.

"So what would you suggest I do? Ignore it?" Dumbledore sighed and clasped his hands on the table, leaning forward.

"It is for you to decide, Harry, not for me. But I would really appreciate it if you tried to help Severus to keep his cover. As would he, no doubt."

_"Very subtle. Very subtle, indeed."_

"Thank you, Headmaster."

— - ♦ - —

Pitch-black night surrounded the unfamiliar empty playground.

"Harry?" suddenly said Dumbledore's voice from the right side. A few more moments flew by in silence.

"When are you going to tell Snape? You are going to tell him, right? It's too important." The boy's eyes moved to the gray wizard beside him.

"Indeed it is. It is important…"

"…And that is why you're keeping it in secret." Harry finished the sentence.

"Yes."

"You're…" the boy sighed, "Never mind. You weren't going to tell me either, were you?"

"Sorry."

"Oh, don't bother. We both know that you're not."

_[What the hell is going on?]_

"So you are just using him."

"What makes you think so, Harry?"

"You're going to send him to the pit blinded!" The boy jumped to his feet and turned around to face the dark figure on the bench.

"We've already discussed it multiple times, Harry. Severus is only a human. He can make mistakes. Information about Voldemort's source of immortality is too vital to risk. Surely you understand that" he fell silent for a moment, "You swore." _[Oh… Horcruxes…]_

_"Yeah, the biggest mistake I've ever made."_

"I did," replied Harry after a long pause.

— - ♦ - —

"Your carriage is at the gates, Remus," said Dumbledore looking around the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

"Thank you, Headmaster." _[Bloody wolf…]_

Lupin picked up his old suitcase and the empty grindylow tank.

"Well — good-bye, Harry," he said, smiling. "It has been a real pleasure teaching you. I feel sure we'll meet again some-time. Headmaster, there is no need to see me to the gates, I can manage…"

"Good-bye, then, Remus," replied the older wizard. Lupin and Dumbledore shook hands. Then, with a final nod to Harry and a swift smile, Lupin left his now-former office.

"Why so miserable, Harry?"

"It's starting."

"We don't know that, my boy. Yes, Pettigrew escaped, but knowing him, I sincerely doubt he would actually do something," said Dumbledore, sitting across the table.

"Well, you should think again, then. Trelawney made another prediction recently. _It will happen tonight. The Dark Lord lies alone and friendless, abandoned by his followers. His servant has been chained these twelve years. Tonight, before midnight the servant will break free and set out to rejoin his master. The Dark Lord will rise again with his servant's aid, greater and more terrible than ever he was. Tonight before midnight the servant will set out to rejoin his master…_ " repeated Potter, "I think it is about Pettigrew. No, I'm sure it is. You should probably tell Snape. He must be ready."

"I don't think it's wise. Voldemort's return won't happen overnight, Harry. Why bother Severus over something that might or might not happen? I will tell him everything he needs to know when the time comes."

"Bother?" Potter frowned, "You're kidding, right?"

_"You're insufferable old git!"_

"Maybe I should just stop bothering you as well, Albus. I am perfectly capable of fighting your war without you."

"Harry…"

"Don't 'Harry' me, old man!" the boy rose from his chair. "If you won't tell Snape tonight, I will do that tomorrow myself. You know how good I am at keeping my word."

"He will not believe you," Dumbledore said strictly, also standing up.

"Well, I guess, I will have to reveal a few more details then."

For a minute both of them just stood glaring at each other, wrapped in the deadly silence of the room.

"Are you threatening me, Mr. Potter?" said Dumbledore in an unusually icy voice.

"I sure am, professor," answered Harry accordingly.

"Then…"

"Then what?"

_"What can you possibly do to me, you bastard?"_

"I suggest you talk to professor Snape immediately. And I want to be present in that conversation. Don't expect me to take your word for it."

_[Ha. So that's why he told me… Well done, Potter.]_

— - ♦ - —

"Oh, Harry, you've startled me."

"Sorry, didn't mean to. I should've warned you first," said Potter, plopping into the chair opposite Dumbledore in his office.

"How are you feeling? Did Poppy release you?" asked the Headmaster, putting down the quill.

"I'm fine. Still shaking a bit after Cruciatus but generally — I'm okay now. Madam Pomfrey gave me the Dreamless Sleep, locked me up in the Hospital Wing, and left to her quarters," smirked the boy.

"Indeed, how silly of her to expect you to do as she instructed," chuckled Dumbledore slightly.

"It's not like I don't respect her, her knowledge or experience. I just can handle everything much faster. And I wouldn't've run away if it was any other day."

"I know, Harry, I know. If you're already here, why don't you show me what happened in the graveyard today?"

The boy nodded and extracted a memory from his mind. Severus watched through Potter's eyes how the Headmaster raised from his table, put out his Pensieve, placed the offered memory inside, and dived into it.

 _"Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Dumb. Ass. How many people are going to get slaughtered because you let yourself be talked into this by a senile narcissist! Of course, everything_ must _be the way Dumbledore wants. Do you have your own brain?! You fucking dumb-ass, Potter! Why didn't you just blew up that fucking lizard with all his merry band while you had a chance? And then took your time to find all other Horcruxes. And then finished yourself off finally. So much easier. No, you had to stick your head in your own ass. Diggory's death wasn't enough, so you needed even more blood on your hands! Who's next? Snape? Your friends? Dumbledore? Oh, I wouldn't mind so much against the last option right now. Fuck. Stop. Stop it. Stop this Horcrux-talking bullshit!"_

_[Oh Merlin… spare me…]_

Harry stood up and took three deep breaths to calm himself down.

After some time, Dumbledore stepped back from the Pensieve, looking rather pleased. " _Expelliarmus_? I must say, I'm impressed."

"Well, it wasn't actually _Expelliarmus_ ," started explaining Harry, raising from his seat, "You know I don't like standard spells. They're more tricky to control, and I couldn't let myself be carried away and strike too hard. _Expelliarmus_ was just a cover."

Harry leaned to the fireplace and folded his arms. "Do you have any other questions?"

"No, my dear boy. Not yet, at least."

Harry nodded. "How's Mr. and Mrs. Diggory?"

"How do you think?" replied Dumbledore, nervously looking at the clock above the fireplace. Harry nodded and followed his gaze. "How long?"

"A little bit more than an hour."

"He'll come back. Don't worry," said Potter, sitting back in his chair.

"I do hope you're right, Harry. We can't afford to lose our spy now."

_"Right. Because it's all just about that bloody war…"_

"By the way. I wanted to give you something. For professor Snape. It's a Modified Pain Reliever. 'MPR' for short. One of my experiments. It helps with the neuro system. I bet, Riddle is not happy with him right now… So… If it's for Cruciatus, five drops of this mixt with a standard dose of the Calming Draught. It should help with the aftereffects. If the curse was cast multiple times, plus one drop per each repeat. He can also use it in case he has injuries, of course, but no more than three drops at a time."

Harry held up a large vial of deep blue potion and a smaller one with the Calming Draught and put them on the table.

"Thank you, my boy. I think Severus would appreciate it."

_"Of course, he would. That thing could kill a hippogriff."_

"Forgive me my curiosity, Harry, but did you invent it for professor Snape?" asked Dumbledore, sitting on his chair and lifting the vial of MPR up to examine it more closely.

"No. I've been using it for years now," said Potter, leaning back and turning his gaze away from the Headmaster. _"And you will never ask me 'why'."_

_[You sick bastard. You knew, didn't you?]_

"And one more moment. Professor Snape won't be able to brew it himself, so when he runs out, just tell me, I'll bring more."

"Of course, Harry."

The boy turned his head sharply. "He's crossed the wards."

_"Thank Merlin…"_

Dumbledore stood up.

— - ♦ - —

"Harry, we cannot hide this. Your friends already know. Severus should know as well. It is important, that he is aware. You spend so much time arguing with me about his safety and now you are backing off?" The two of them stood in Dumbledore's office.

"I am not. But I don't want to lie to him either. Why can't we just tell him the truth? You can say that you taught me yourself and the problem would be solved," replied Potter glaring at the Headmaster.

"Because I'm supposed to ignore you."

"But…"

"Harry. Need I remind you that you swore your allegiance to me? That you swore to do whatever it takes to win that war? You are not in any position to argue. The decision is made. When the time comes you will take the Occlumency lessons from professor Snape. All we need is an attempt. You will struggle with the art for a few months, and then you'll find an excuse to quit. Is that understood?"

For the whole minute, they simply scowled at each other, fighting their own anger.

"Clearly."

— - ♦ - —

"So what is it that you wanted my help with? You've mentioned earlier," asked Harry. He and Dumbledore were once again sitting on the same bench at the edge of the playground in the middle of the night. This time, though, the moon was shining brightly in the sky accompanied by the myriad of stars.

"Oh, yes. I'm afraid I have to once again ask you to help Severus."

"I don't mind."

"I know you don't," smiled Dumbledore.

"So what can I do for him?" asked Harry, shifting his gaze to the sky above.

"I have told you about Draco's new assignment. A few days ago Narcissa went to Severus. She and Bellatrix made him swear an Unbreakable vow that he will help and protect the boy but, more importantly, that he will take over the task should Draco fail," said the Headmaster calmly.

"I assume you want me to break it? The vow called 'unbreakable' for a reason, you know."

"You are the only one who can at least try. I have no intention to die, Harry. Not yet. I figured you would want to spare Severus too."

"And what about Malfoy? You realize, if you live, he'll die."

_"Stupid question. Of course, you are. You just don't really care."_

"Harry, we're at war…"

"He's a child!"

"So are you."

"Oh, really. In that case, I should just probably send you and your pal Tom to rot in facking hell and go back to bed. It's way after curfew and my loving relatives won't give me ice cream if I'm not in sleeping at night," said Harry with angry sarcasm, "Albus, you do understand what you're asking, don't you? If I'll find a way around this for professor Snape, I _will_ use it for my vow as well."

_"It's a pity there isn't one…"_

"Try, Harry. That is all I'm asking."

_"Oh, I will. Just not for you."_

"How are things with Slughorn?" asked Potter after another minute of silence.

"I've located his whereabouts. We should pay him a visit, sometime soon," replied Dumbledore.

— - ♦ - —

Harry was kneeling on the floor somewhere with his eyes closed. His right hand laid on something that felt warm and fabric. This black emptiness lasted only for a few moments before the boy opened his eyes at the sound of someone inhaling sharply.

_[Merlin…]_

Dumbledore, or his fragile figure more likely, was lying before the boy, desperately trying to breathe but failing miserably. Most parts of his visible skin were black as coal. His sunken pale eyes were festering and his white lips were thin and weazen **.** His body shrunk. He looked like Death herself.

But as the seconds ticked by, the man was slowly but steadily returning to the normal state.

"You foolish bastard! WHY did you even touch this thing?! Have you lost your mind?!" bellowed Potter. "I can't cure you. Too much damage," he added more calmly.

"Harry… it's...it's…" whispered Dumbledore.

"It's a Horcrux, I know that. Shut up. Don't try to speak," said Harry tiredly. _"And what am I supposed to do with you now, you crazy old man… Why did you never listen?"_

"Get me to Severus… Get me to Severus, Harry… Get me…" mumbled Dumbledore, "You can't be a part of it."

"Why did you call me then? I'm sure, professor Snape _can_ apparite," said Harry, irritated. _"I'm so sick of your secrets…"_

"Yes, but... is he… Is he able to do what you've just done?" whispered the grey wizard again. He still had trouble with breathing but the situation, in general, had improved vastly.

"Oh, so it's all about your precious life. I did what you wanted and now I have to back off, so you could use _Snape_ further?"

Dumbledore wanted to reply but the scene abruptly changed. Instead of an old house the both of them were now in the round room that Snape recognized was the man's quarters. Albus was too weak for such sudden apparition and threw up on the floor and partly on himself. Harry cleaned up the vomit and helped the Headmaster to get to the nearest sofa.

"Dobby," called the boy. The elf instantly popped up in the room.

"Harry Potter sir called for Dobby and Dobby is here! What can Dobby do for Harry Potter?" joyfully squeaked the house-elf.

"Dobby, I need you to deliver this note to professor Snape immediately," Harry conjured a small piece of parchment and gave it to Dobby. The elf nodded enthusiastically and vanished.

"Thank you, my boy," said Dumbledore in a still unstable voice, "You saved my life. I owe you so much."

Harry sat at the chair nearby and sighed. "Well, don't forget that next time when you do something stupid. The ring is no longer cursed but the Horcrux still exists. I'll get back here at night and deal with it but now I should get back to the Dursleys. Professor Snape is almost here anyway. Let me know how everything went here later."

— - ♦ - —

"Come again?" asked Harry in evident shock. He was once again sitting with Dumbledore in the old man's quarters. But judging by the blackness outside the only window in sight, it was somewhere in the middle of the night.

"Severus agreed to kill me," repeated Albus calmly.

_[Like I had a choice…]_

"…tons of problems that hung upon us lately," he added.

"And destroy him. It will destroy Snape's life completely."

"I know, my boy… I know. Believe me, Severus understands that too. But we all do our sacrifices. We all put our lives on the altar of this war and…"

"Don't you dare. Don't you ever dare to call your idiocy 'sacrifice'… Never. _You_ sacrificed _nothing_ except the lives of those people around you, who were naive enough to trust you," replied Potter in a cold distant voice. "You have no right to even _think_ like this."

The boy stood up and turned away. "You disgust me."

Severus felt a pang of something almost untraceable. Or Potter felt it. It was hard to tell.

"We do not have other options, Harry, and you know it better than I do."

"I could contain the curse for decades! I could just get the ax and simply chop your fucking hand off but no! Your itching for playing and manipulating lives the hardest way possible is _so_ irresistible that you _can't_ stop yourself!" The boy's temper started to get the better of him.

"Harry, how many chances are there that you'd succeed in breaking Severus' vow?"

"Oh, so it is _MY_ FAULT NOW!" yelled Potter, spinning around to face Dumbledore.

"Calm down, Harry, or…"

"Or what?" replied Potter in an icy voice that made Severus extremely envious.

"How easily you juggling fates, old man… You screwed up my life — the little fact I don't particularly care about. Oh, don't look at me like that, we both know perfectly well what you did, when, and why. But this… I can't watch this anymore. Remember all those years ago I asked you if you cared for professor Snape and you said you do? Did you lie to me or are you just a cold-blooded heartless monster? Tell me, did you even plan to get the man out of the mess _you_ tossed him in? Who would help your beloved long-suffering Severus after your unfortunate demise? I WILL BE DEAD! No one else knows the truth! Answer me!" bellowed Potter at the pale Dumbledore.

"You will find a way, my boy, I'm sure of it," replied the latter. "Harry, I do care…"

Potter shook his head exasperatingly. For almost five minutes no one spoke another word. Tension filled the room and fettered the lungs of both men, every breath, every movement, every thought was difficult. Even Severus was lost.

"Tell me the details," Harry said finally.

"The details?"

"Yes. I need to know the details of your plan. Do not make me dig up your brain for them because I will."

"Well… We do not have a solid plan yet," started Albus, shifting on his seat, "All we know is that the event will take place at the end of the school year and young Mr. Malfoy will have to be a part of it. It is _his_ assignment, after all. In the meantime, you and I will be searching actively for the remaining Horcruxes. We must find as many as we can before Severus… Before I die. How about we pay a visit to the dear Horace tomorrow evening?"

"I will see what I can do. Good night, Albus," said Harry and turned around to leave the room but stopped in the doorframe.

"You know, right now, if I had the chance, I would gladly release professor Snape from his new duty and murder you myself," he added very quietly and exited without looking at Dumbledore.

— - ♦ - —

Potter, Lovegood, McGonagall, and memory-Snape himself stood in one of the halls of Hogwarts.

"Have you seen Harry Potter, Minerva? Because if you have, I must insist… Dumbledore asked me to give him a very important message. Do you understand? It's essential. Time is running out," asked Snape.

"Excuse me, correct me, if I am wrong: _Dumbledore_ asked you? How… How dare you?.." the professor hissed menacingly after a moment of stunned silence.

"Exactly. I don't have time to explain. I need a minute, just one minute, to give him this." Snape pulled out of his robe's pocket a small vial with silvery-bluish essence. "It's utterly important. Before everything begins… He must know. Don't you understand?"

"I don't want to understand! You fooled us all once, and I will not allow you to do it again! Traitor! Defend yourself or I will curse you where you stand!" exclaimed McGonagall when noticed with surprise that Snape did not even try to unsheathe his wand.

"Do what you must, but first I need Potter to have this!" hissed the potions master, equally frustrated.

"I'm afraid you're in no position to demand a damn thing! And what the hell is this!?" asked McGonagall, fully aware of the nature of the substance. Her eyes helplessly tossed between Snape's face and the vial, revealing a fierce inner struggle.

"Professor, please. I swear, as soon as I give him this message, my part will be over, and you can throw me to the dementors or Avada me on the spot yourself if you so wish. I truly do not care."

_"What on earth that old bastard did again? There weren't supposed to be any massages. Bloody fucking Dumbledore. If he screwed something up I'll find him wherever he is now and make his existence hell."_

Minerva opened her mouth, intending to reply, but didn't get the chance to do so. A few steps aside from her Potter took the invisibility cloak off of himself and Luna to indicate their presence.

A tense silence hung in the hall once again.

"Mr. Potter, I need to give you a very urgent message from Professor Dumbledore. Alone. If you don't mind, let's proceed to the Headmaster's office. And put on the cloak, we should not be seen."

Without a word, Potter vanished under his invisibility cloak again and quietly followed Severus down the corridor.

When the pair stepped over the threshold of the round office, Snape foisted the vial on Harry silently and took the pensive out.

_"I do not like this… I definitely do not like this."_

_[Trust me, I didn't either…]_

With a deep breath and one last glance at his former professor's worried expression, Harry dived into the memories.

Ten minutes later Snape still stood near the headmaster's chair, looking like a silent marble sculpture, and watched him. Waiting for a reaction.

 _"You son of a bitch..._ _Of course, I always knew Dumbledore was an old sentimental fool. What else did you expect, Potter? One last great manipulation from the dead Master."_

He carefully eyed the man in front of him.

 _"What am I gonna do now? I should probably say something. Anyway… Not that it matters much right now. Sorry, professor, there's no time for that…_ _I knew how it would end from the start and the sooner I'll deal with it the better. Calm down, Potter… Just calm down. You can do it."_

Snape's black fathomless eyes, usually cold and impenetrable, were glittering in the warm light. _"How many times I wondered how hopeless and unbearable life must be for him to wear the mask of indifference and contempt so proficiently. Now I know."_

"Harry..."

There was something odd and unnatural in his own first name coming from Snape.

"Harry, I…"

_"Oh, don't…"_

Potter held up a hand to stop Snape's upcoming tirade and let the man save some dignity.

"Professor, there isn't much time for a real conversation, and I am sorry. I can imagine how hard it was for you to show me what you did, and I am grateful for that. God, I wish I could explain things properly, but time is a luxury I do not have… You'll know later, I promise, I've taken care of it. Now, long story short: how much do you know about Horcruxes?" When Snape only gaped at him in shock, Harry continued.

"Judging by your reaction, I presume, you know what I'm talking about. Anyway, Riddle created seven of them, including me of course. Four Horcruxes were already destroyed: the diary from the ordeal with the Chamber of Secrets, that ring with the good old Nigrum Mortem curse with which Dumbledore so stupidly killed himself, Salazar Slytherin's locket, and Helga Hufflepuff's cup. I need to go to the Room of Requirement to find the fifth, something that belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw, her diadem most certainly. And we also need to get rid of the snake. After that, I'm going to find Voldemort," he paused briefly to take a breath. "When I'll be gone, and all other Horcruxes are destroyed, comes your turn: kill Riddle. But precisely in that order, so you'll have to wait here for my sign. I repeat: do not leave this office. You must not let yourself be killed. Oh, and take my invisibility cloak."

Memory-Snape was staring at him in silent disbelieve.

"And don't look at me like that! I know, I was meant to do this, not you, but, apparently, I couldn't! Dead does not wave wands. So you will do it instead of me," with conviction, burning in his eyes, he glared at the Headmaster who seemed to be frozen in shock.

 _"_ But how… I don't…"

"No, professor, YOU — DO! You're a big part of this mess. You destroyed more than one life and this… This is your chance to make things right. Once and for all. Do it, Severus… Do it for Her."

_"I am so sorry…"_

_[So am I…]_

From somewhere outside the window came the first sounds of an inflamed struggle: the rustling clatter of broken glass, the booming blows of spells against stone walls, and screams, endless screams…

In the yellowish semidarkness of the office, time was frozen. Silence painfully pressed on the eardrums. The two glared at each other in a mute scramble.

One second. Two. Three...

Snape blinked and lowered his gaze, admitting defeat.

Potter nodded and without another word retreated from the room, confident that everything will be as it should.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **(1)** This memory is just a small part of a very important conversation between Harry and Dumbledore. You could find the whole thing in chapter 3 ("I.9.6.91. The Master of… what?") of "Mirror: the war".


	10. The beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war is over, but not all enemies are defeated. Strange things start to happen around Harry and those who are close to him, and once again he must step forward to fight.
> 
> Who are they? What do they want? Why are they doing this? Many questions, but no answers.
> 
> Super!Potter. Snape's alive. Abuse. Post-canon.
> 
> There's a side-story for this fic. It is called 'Mirror: the war', and it's about Harry's school years. A background of sorts :)  
> I work on them both at the same time. Be so kind and check it out if you're interested! :)

## The beginning

Severus felt the familiar tag and a few seconds later was standing back in the lab and looking at Potter stirring something in a cauldron. The boy lifted up his gaze.

"Hello again, professor," he said evenly.

Snape nodded and quickly turned to leave the room to escape questioning.

"You won't even say anything?" Harry asked, stopping Severus mid-step.

"What is there to say, Mr. Potter? It is blatantly obvious that my whole life was a big lie and the person I trusted the most didn't give a shit about me," said Severus quietly. Sadness was evident in his voice and Harry regretted giving his professor only the one-sided story.

"He did. He did, professor. Everything you just saw was meant to prove your innocence, leaving me in the shadows as much as possible, not to give you the whole picture. And Albus did care, it's just…"

"He cared about war more," interrupted Snape, "Tell me, Mr. Potter, did Dumbledore know about your abuse?" he quirked an eyebrow.

"Take a seat, sir," asked Harry sighing and pointing at one of the chairs. When Severus obeyed, the boy put his cauldron on stasis and sat opposite the professor.

"I never told him and he never asked. But, yes, he knew. I suppose he knew."

"Exactly my point," sneered Snape.

"Professor… Yes, you have every right to be pissed off with him. And I have too… But… Well. You know, I've learned how to read people very early in my life. It was the mean of self-preservation, really. And I can tell for sure that Albus Dumbledore always was just one sad, desperate man broken beyond repair," started Harry, "He'd made some mistakes in the past. Mistakes that he was never able to forgive himself. I'm sure you've heard of Ariana. And that feeling, constantly nagging somewhere in the background of the mind…" the boy lowered his voice to a whisper, "Feeling that you don't deserve to be here, that you don't belong here, that you have to earn this place, _have to do better._ It's just… And the more time passes the more desperate you become to get rid of it. But it doesn't matter what you do, it doesn't matter how hard you try, you will _never_ _wash this filth off_ of your soul. And the worst part of it all is that you are smart. You live with your eyes wide open. You see what you are, you see how pathetic your attempts are, you see that there's no point in doing what you do. But you can't stop. And it makes you even more desperate… Do you think Dumbledore cared for 'the greater good'? No, not really. He was just a man who tried to make his life a little bit more bearable. Like we all are."

Harry fell silent for a moment, watching Snape carefully. But when the man didn't say a word in reply, Potter continued.

"So yes, he was the brain-twisted, manipulative, cold-blooded bastard who watched the child abuse for years and enjoyed its result. Who gave the man an illusion of freedom and safety but repeatedly sent him to hell and back without the slightest regret. Who caused death to many, and many, and many people and thought it to be _the right thing_. And yes, his own fuckedupness doesn't make everything okay but it makes it understandable. _I understand it._ And I think you do too."

Severus shot a sharp glance and Harry but said nothing.

"My point is… I saw the old git for exactly who he was from the beginning. And I didn't lie to you when I said that he cared for you. He really did. But if you think that it would stop him from doing _'what needed to be done'_ , you're a fool."

Harry stood up and went back to his unfinished Dreamless Sleep potion. Severus watched him warily. The words Potter just said echoed in his mind over and over again. He really _did_ understand. Kind of. This knowledge didn't make him feel any better, though… But, perhaps, Potter has the point. We all are the result of our past. And Severus made a great bunch of terrible mistakes and has his own flaws. He definitely wasn't the one to complain now.

"Would I ever be allowed to know the whole story?" he asked.

Harry looked at the man, surprised by his tone. "Of course. But… Maybe you could give me the upcoming fortnight before I start telling you? I don't think I'm in any condition for long monologues now…"

"Sure," answered Snape, "May I ask one more question?"

Poter nodded.

"In one of the memories you said that if you find a way around the unbreakable vow, you would use it for yourself as well."

"At some point during my first year, Dumbledore… talked me into making the unbreakable vow to do whatever it takes to win the war. Under his command, of course. But there isn't a way around that particular vow. I'd tried for years but, obviously, was unsuccessful," said Harry.

Severus closed the eyes… That awful man made the god-damn eleven-year-old give the unbreakable vow?! He definitely didn't understand a thing in this world…

Though, if you think of it, it wasn't just _any_ eleven-year-old. It was Potter, who probably at ten was more powerful and wise than the majority of witches and wizards are at fifty.

His head hurt.

Unable to deal with any of this crap a second longer, Snape bid his goodbye to Potter and escaped the room as fast as he possibly could.

— - ♦ - —

The next morning Snape woke up early as usual and after fifteen minutes found himself sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of black coffee. He didn't get much sleep that night because of the ghostly white figure with an enormously long beard that hunted his dreams. And, as you can imagine, the man was not in a good mood that day.

Severus turned another page of his favorite book when the door to the kitchen opened and Draco walked in. He froze for a second before approaching the table and ordering Kreacher breakfast. The boy looked paler than usual and had dark circles under his eyes. It seemed like Snape wasn't the only one who spent a sleepless night.

"Don't worry, Draco," said Severus tiredly, "Mr. Potter knows what he's doing."

"Why do you think I worry about _that_?" asked Malfoy quietly. It was the first time he spoke with Snape since the incident. If the man was surprised, he didn't show it.

"It's written all over your face," he replied simply and shrugged.

Draco knew he probably looked bad. He felt even worse, to be honest. Half of the previous night he spent thinking in horror about the treatment that Harry suggested yesterday, and the other half — trying to shut his mind from those thoughts. At some point, the boy fell asleep but it was only for a few hours. Draco woke up with the terrifying feeling that Harry is gone and all his nightmares are preparing to attack him at any moment. So the boy got up, glanced at the also uneasy sleeping figure of the world's savior — just to make sure he was still here — and went downstairs where he found his professor who looked even worse than Draco felt. If it was at all possible.

"What are _you_ so worried about, professor?" asked Malfoy after a minute of gathering courage.

"What makes you think that I am?"

"It's written all over your face," replied the boy in almost whisper.

Snape smirked. "I'm just tired, Draco. Haven't got much sleep lately."

"Is it because of your house?"

Severus was glad that his godson stopped avoiding him, don't get it wrong. He really was. But lt didn't mean that he was ready to share feelings with him. With anybody, actually. But he will try for the boy's sake.

"My house?" he totally forgot about that… "Oh, no. It's not about that."

When nothing followed, Draco didn't dare to press the matter further and sipped his tea absentmindedly. Severus looked at his charge (or was he Potter's charge now?) and noticed a trace of disappointment on his face. Or maybe Snape just thought he saw it. It didn't matter.

"Mr. Potter showed me a fascinating tale yesterday and I'm still processing it, that is all," he said evenly.

Draco looked up. "What tale?"

"About Albus Dumbledore. About me. About Potter. About things that really happened… It's a long story, Draco and I'm not sure that I'm the one to tell you. You better ask Harry. I don't know that much anyway."

Malfoy stared at his professor befuddled. The men _never_ spoke to him so openly. And they were much closer than Snape ever was with any other student due to the whole godfather-godson thing. Plus he just called Harry by the given name. It was beyond weird.

"You don't know much about your own life?"

"Mesmerizing fact, isn't it?" said Snape bitterly.

"How is that possible?"

"If you sold your soul to two devils at once, Draco… everything is possible."

The boy nodded, though, he didn't fully understand.

"Sir,—"

"Severus."

"Right, Severus. Can I...can I ask you something?"

"Of course. Anything."

"I just don't know what to do… About that treatment. I want it to be over. And I want to help Harry. It is hard for him, I can see. But still… What if…"

"Don't. All that 'what ifs' is not going to help. They will only make things worse, believe me," interrupted Snape. "As I said before, I am sure that Potter knows what he's doing, Draco. He already did so much to help you. And still doing. I could never imagine saying something like this — perhaps, only in nightmares — but this new Harry Potter is a wise man. I can't think that he would suggest something like that if he is not certain in the result."

Malfoy stared wide-eyed at him not sure how to respond. He couldn't get used to Snape talking this way about Harry Potter.

"It will be hard, Draco, but you will regret it much more in the future if you refuse now. Trust me, I know," added the professor, sorrow swimming in his deep obsidian eyes.

When his godson didn't reply, Severus got back to reading. But due to his constantly wandering thoughts, he couldn't quite focus on the words. Therefore the man looked on the page before him but didn't see a thing, lost in his own mind.

"Good morning," suddenly said Harry's voice.

Both kitchen occupants jerked their heads towards the sound.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter."

"Harry. My name is Harry, professor," corrected the boy once again.

"Well, in that case, my name is not 'professor' either. Harry," said Snape, surrendering to the strange wave of gratitude to the boy.

"You want me to call you Severus?" asked Harry, amazed.

Snape spent a lot of hours the previous day and night thinking about Potter. The boy roused up the long-forgotten feeling of having someone fighting for him no matter what. It felt so wrong but at the same time incredibly warm and nice. Severus never dared to fight for himself. At least not so fiercely as Harry seemed to do all this time. He would never admit it out loud, of course, but somehow, the thought of Potter risking Dumbledore's wrath on his behalf made Severus feel protected. So being on the first name basis with the blasted boy seemed a reasonable step.

"I do," replied the man finally.

Harry grinned. "Then I shall do as you wish, Headmaster Severus," he bowed playfully. Draco snickered and the next second both boys were laughing wholeheartedly. The mood in the room lightened noticeably and even Severus Snape, the dour dungeon man, smiled.

The rest of the breakfast time went as usual. When Severus excused himself from the table, he squeezed Draco's shoulder lightly on his way out in an attempt to encourage him to accept Harry's offer. The blond sighed but nodded and the next moment after the door closed behind Snape, he spoke up.

"Harry, I wanted to talk to you," started the boy. "About your treatment."

"Okay. So you thought it over?" asked Potter approaching the sink to wash the dishes.

"Yes. I… I agree. Do it."

Harry turned around to face his friend.

"Are you sure? There's still time."

"I'm sure. The longer I postpone it the harder it will become. For both of us. I want to start as soon as possible."

"Then we start first thing tomorrow. And I advise you to get as much rest today as you could. I brewed Dreamless Sleep yesterday. You can take it. I see that you do need some sleep."

 _"And I need some alone-time to rest before hell falls on my head as well…"_ he finished in his mind.

Draco nodded obediently and went back upstairs to find said potion standing on the table, take it and fall asleep for the rest of the day and most part of the night.

Harry had all day to himself. Sleeping wouldn't solve his little exhaustion problem, therefore he decided to rest by means of simple meditation and mind-relaxation. But before he got the chance to even leave the kitchen, a loud 'pop' and the familiar grumpy voice stopped him.

"Master," said the elf.

"What is it, Kreacher?"

"Sir Kingsley asked Kreacher to deliver a letter to his Master," replied the house-elf.

"Oh, thank you."

Harry took the parchment and unfolded it. There were two lists that turned out to be two separate letters. The smaller one said:

_\  
\ Dear Mr. Potter!  
\   
_ _\ We glad to inform you that after a short consideration of your request,  
\ the Department of Magical Education agreed to provide you with an  
\ opportunity to pass your NEWT exams in a month's time.  
\   
\ _ _The examinations will take place in the Ministry of Magic. Your assigned  
\ examinator — Griselda Marchbanks, the head of Wizarding Examinations  
\ Authority. The exams will also be supervised by Kingsley Shacklebolt,  
\ the Minister of Magic.  
\   
\ _ _The list of your exams:  
\   
_ _\ 1 – Charms  
\   
_ _\ 2 – Defence Against the Dark Arts  
\   
_ _\ 3 – Herbology  
\   
_ _\ 4 – Potions  
\   
_ _\ 5 – Transfiguration  
\   
_ _\ Please, inform the Department of Magical Education of the convenient  
\ days and time.  
\   
_ _\ Matilda Bagot  
\   
  
_

Well, it was something.

The second, considerably longer letter, was from Kingsley himself. And the familiar hunch in Harry's stomach was saying that the boy won't like what's written in there…

_\  
\ Harry!  
\   
\ __Straight to the point. Our endless search and reids are finally giving some results.  
\ Yesterday we received other information about _ _Malfoy's current location and went  
\ there immediately. You would never believe where that location was… Spinner's  
\ End, Cokeworth. I think I don't need to explain why it's significant.  
\   
\ __And this time we found him, lying in some dirty corner of the abandoned mill at  
\ the end of said street. As you predicted, he was dead for at least a week. The me-  
\ di-wizard who examined his body did not find any visible cause of death, so there  
\ is a big chance that whoever did this, used the Killing curse. The only thing that  
\ was a bit off with the body — a missing fingernail from the little finger on the  
\ right hand. In everything else the body was intact.  
\   
\ __His left shoe was found in an even more strange place. At the threshold of Snape's  
\ home near the mill. I suppose he was killed or knocked out there and dragged to  
\ the place we found him. My only guess is that someone tried to frame our new  
\ hero for the murder. But why do this so bloody obvious, I can not imagine. I mean,  
\ Snape is a very smart man, he would never do such idiotic thing on his own  
\ threshold. Unless he was under the Imperius curse, of course. I'm gonna need to  
\ talk to you both sometime soon about that. I can show you the memory of that day.  
\ Maybe we missed something important.  
\   
\ __How's Draco doing, by the way? Is he any better? I know a very good mind healer,  
\ in case he would ever need one. But something's telling me that he won't. You  
\ assured me that you have things under control and, somehow, I have little doubts  
\ about that. If Dumbledore believed you powerful enough to hide it for so many years,  
\ who am I to argue? But when all this crazy ordeal with Malfoys is finally over, I need  
\ you to tell me the whole story. You can swear me to secrecy if you want.  
\   
\ __About your NEWTs. I hope you don't mind my presence there. I have something on_  
_\ my mind that I want to ask you for and I'd like to make sure you are able to do it first._  
_\ I'll tell you all about it later.  
\   
\ __Write to me if you need anything.  
\   
\ __Shacklebolt_  
_\_

Just what the fucking hell…

Harry reread the last letter twice while he absentmindedly strode to the living room, plopped onto the sofa, and closed his eyes. He will think it over a bit later.

"Something happened? You're acting weird, Potter. Harry," suddenly said Snape's voice from somewhere near the window. Harry opened the eyes and looked at Severus. There must be something on the boy's face because Snape's instantly became concerned.

Severus approached Potter and sat on the other side of the sofa.

"What happened? Is it Draco?"

Harry shook his head and hold Kingsley's letter on to the professor without words. Severus glanced through the text and paled significantly. "It was them, wasn't it?"

"I'm afraid so…"

"What do you think about it? You undoubtedly understood more than I did from this."

"You definitely overestimate me, sir," replied Harry, "There isn't much to understand really. Besides the fact that those two Tinky-Winky _are_ behind Draco's kidnapping. There's a good chance that Lucius was also under their influence. He was always so protective of his family… And it's just weird that he suddenly decided he doesn't give a shit about his son."

"Yes, it does seem odd…" said Severus thoughtfully.

"All three of them, I mean Malfoy, Mulciber, and Macnair, were killed to cover tracks, that's obvious. But if Macnair and Mulciber were likely to be killed out of anger, Lucius' death was planned. It had a purpose. The question is, what is it they want?"

"A wild guess — you," smirked Snape.

"Hah, that would be a relief, really. If they want just me. But why organize all this then?"

"So you think I'm the target?" Snape raised one eyebrow questioningly.

Harry covered his face with his hands for a second and then ran them through his hair. "I don't know… Does it matter, which of us is the target? It doesn't make sense either way," he sighed, "How's your meditation?"

"Em… Fine, I guess. I tried it only once so far. It's hard to tell because I don't really understand what exactly I need to achieve and how."

Harry eyed the man thoughtfully for a moment. "Right. I was gonna do that anyway, so you might as well join me."

When Snape nodded, the boy turned on the couch to face him and continued. "This is what we're going to do: you will penetrate my mind, then I will tie your mind to mine, so you would be able to feel what I'm feeling. And then I will show you what exactly you need to achieve. Ready?"

Severus was not ready. He didn't expect this turn of events.

"Don't worry. I won't be anywhere near your thoughts and memories. I'm not interested in poking around your head. It's you who's gonna poke around mine."

"And you're okay with that?"

"Absolutely. Now, enter my mind," answered Potter without hesitation.

Snape did as he was told and cast a wandless nonverbal _Legilimens_. The next second he was swirling in an endless stream of different memories from Potter's childhood and school years.

"Your mind is still a gigantic mess, Potter… You were supposed to be skilled in mental arts, weren't you?" sneered Snape, "I do not see any shields."

 _"Are you sure about that? What_ do _you see, then?"_ asked Harry in his mind.

And suddenly it stroke Severus. Really, what did he see? Just some innocent, completely useless stuff that usually fills minds of regular dunderhead-teenagers. But Harry wasn't anything _near_ regular teen.

"You use your less important memories to protect those that more important," mumbled the man.

 _"Exactly,"_ smiled Harry, turning his gaze away from Snape's but keeping the connection in place. Then he pulled Severus through his shields and slowly started their journey deep into his mind.

After a few moments, Severus found himself in a complete vacuum. Colorless, soundless, empty space, where he seemed to be levitating. He was so relaxed, he couldn't feel his own body. He couldn't even remember how was it like to have one. Merlin knows how much time passed while he simply existed like this but at one moment he felt something. Just a slight prickling from the side that Severus assumed was his left (though, he was not sure about that. He was not sure he had any sides at all).

The prickling became more and more intense. And then Severus felt a similar sensation to the one of an apparition like he was sucked in a small tube. And everything around changed. Instead of the dark nothingness, there were myriads of colors (or was it only one?) and he did feel a body now but in a very different strange way. Like he was aware of every small piece of it, every process inside. He felt everything all together and each smallest detail at the same time. And he felt it…He felt magic swirling all around him and inside him. Consuming him whole. Severus was overwhelmed by this and didn't have enough. Never in his whole life, he felt so full.

And then slowly all these extraordinary sensations started to fade away with increasing speed, until, finally, Severus once again found himself sitting on the sofa in the living room in astonished silence. He had no idea what to say. But Harry seemed to understand it.

"See now why I was so obsessed with this at the beginning?" he asked, smiling at the amazement on Snape's face, "What you saw first — that blackness — is where you need to get by means of meditation and Occlumency. It is the deepest level of your mind, your being."

"And the other one?"

"It is my magical core," said Harry. "That nothingness is also my magical core, I just hid the magic from your sight."

Noticing the frown on Snape's face, he added: "You have it too, Severus. All of it is inside you, maybe even more. You simply can't feel it yet."

"But you can, of course?"

"Well, it's just magic and you _are_ a wizard, don't you? Now, let's do that again but this time you will be on your own. I will only watch your actions and guide you. Okay?"

Severus sighed. He didn't really want to go back to the blackness again. "What do I do first?"

"You close your eyes and occlude as much as possible but from yourself, not others. You need to go very deep inside your mind. Lock yourself in it. Concentrate on your memory of that place. Turn off the outside world, you don't need it, don't need to listen, or see, or feel anything that is not your own mind. Don't even think. Magic doesn't depend on thoughts. You need to just be," explained Harry.

"Sounds easy…" mumbled Severus sarcastically, "And you will be?.."

"I will be there with you. So it in your interests not to think," chuckled the boy. Snape just grimaced in reply.

"Ready?"

"Just do it, Potter. I'll never be ready for you inside my mind," snapped Severus, earning himself a full smug grin from Potter. Why the boy was so damn joyful he could not understand.

When Snape felt Harry's presence in his mind, he tensed and automatically build up numerous shields in an attempt to prevent the boy from seeing as less as possible.

"Relax, professor. I'm not going to wander around there. I'm just trying to help. I can observe your actions this way, or I can hide so that you wouldn't feel my presence. But I need to know what you're doing," he paused, "You wanted me to teach you. Relax. Just breathe."

"Stay where you are, Potter," growled Severus.

"As you wish, sir," replied Harry, "Now close your eyes."

When Snape did as instructed, Harry closed his eyes too, leaned on the back of the couch, and watched how his former professor occluded layer by layer of his conscious. He was doing a pretty good job and Harry let himself relax a bit. Maybe the whole thing won't be so hard as he expected at first.

Severus did his best to ignore Potter's presence nearby. He also couldn't help but be amazed that Harry actually kept his word and haven't moved an inch in any direction. And Snape had to once again remind himself that Harry Potter was a completely different man. And then that he could hear his thoughts. So Severus shut himself up and concentrated on his task.

It was difficult, though. He had no problems with occluding his conscious and subconscious from others. But closing it from himself turned out to be… Well, tough. Severus tried to build a wall between himself and his conscious mind but every time he got close to putting the last brick, everything went to hell.

 _"You're doing fine. Just stop trying so badly, stop forcing things. Let it be, let everything be,"_ said Harry's voice quietly in the man's head, _"It is the hardest part. But in order to control your magic, you need to let the magic control you. Do it, Severus. Let everything go."_

The unwanted memory of their last conversation in the Headmaster's office popped up without asking permission and broke everything down again. Snape took a deep breath and opened his eyes, ceasing the exercise. He felt Harry exiting his mind and looked at the boy, who in his turn, was looking at him.

"Well, it was a good attempt. You just need to practice more," Potter said, "Your biggest mistake was assuming that you're in charge of your body and your mind. I can assure you that it's not the case. Your soul is only taking residence in a very complex mechanism. You're a guest in your own body, Severus. What you're attempting to do is hard only because you're trying to _make_ things work. If you were simply asking for them, you would be surprised how much you could do without actually doing anything."

It was so strange to sit there and listen to his student's lecture. Snape hasn't felt so uncomfortable in a very long time. Therefore he just looked at Potter not knowing what to say. These lessons would be something… What Harry was saying, though, was interesting. Pretty obvious, if you think of it, but interesting. For some reason, Severus himself has never thought about it before.

"So, do some practice. I'm gonna be right on this spot if you'll have questions. Okay?" asked Harry.

Snape nodded and closed his eyes again. Harry did the same and immediately got lost in himself.

There will be two exceptionally nasty weeks ahead.


	11. How and why

## How and why

Almost at midnight, Harry was awakened from his almost trance - almost sleep by a ward disturbance. Someone wanted to get inside the house, and judging by the stubbornness with which he or she tried, that intention was adamant. Harry opened his eyes. Severus was still in the room, reading in one of the chairs. Deciding not to disturb the man, Potter quietly got up and strode toward the door.

"Did something happen?" asked Snape without lifting his gaze.

"Someone is trying to get inside. I'm going to take a look at our night guests," replied Harry on his way. Not saying another word, Severus also got up and followed. When Potter saw who stood outside the house arguing, he smiled. Snape snorted and leaned on the door.

Ron and Hermione were standing in the middle of the anti-magical ward, having a pretty loud conversation supported by arms waving and heads shaking, while Ginny and two other people stood nearby with exasperated expressions on their faces. Harry walked to his girlfriend and hugged her tightly.

"Hi," smiled Ginny, "I've missed you so much. How are you?"

"I'm okay. I missed you too," said Potter quietly, "Harry," he added to the strangers, releasing the girl, holding his hand to the man, and bowed his head slightly to the very pregnant woman.

"Wendell Wilkins," the man shook Harry's hand, "It's my wife, Monica. You're that poor girl's magical friend who's supposed to restore our so-called lost memories?"

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, I'm him." Ron and Hermione didn't even notice Harry's presence.

"How long do you think it will take?" he asked Ginny, looking at their friends. The youngest Weasley sighed.

"Hey, you two! You'll wake up the whole neighborhood!" she cried. Ron and Hermione suddenly stopped talking and looked in Ginny's direction.

"Harry!" cried Hermione, "How are you?" she asked, approaching the boy and embracing him.

"I'm good, Hermione. Let's continue inside, shall we?" replied Potter.

"Harry…" called a quiet voice.

"Ron," said the boy in reply and continued his way into the house.

"Um... Harry?"

"Yes, Hermione?"

"The Fidelius charm…"

"Oh, right, sorry," said Potter, turned back and strode to the befuddled ex- and future-Granger's and told the usual to allow them inside.

"Wha…" all they managed to say before the house that wasn't there appeared from thin air.

"What the…" started Mr. Granger but was interrupted by Harry.

"It's my home. Inside, everyone," gestured Potter.

When Harry stepped through the wards, Snape was nowhere to be seen. The boy rushed ahead of his guests and stopped all of them before they could step through the door.

"It is vital that you do not make a sound in the hall. Not even one. Understood?" he said to all of them, then looked at Ron, Hermione, and Ginny and added: "I've dealt with the 'ghost', and the portrait is behaving much better, but I still don't want any shrieking accidents in the middle of the night."

"Oh, I totally understand," answered Hermione, Weasleys just nodded, and the procession moved further. Everything went perfectly quiet, and in less than a minute, all of them were seated in the warm and cozy living room. The lights were comfortably dim, and a fire crackled in the fireplace.

"This is professor Snape," Potter introduced the man who stood with his back on them near the window. Severus turned his head around and nodded in acknowledgment.

"Does anyone want anything? How about some tea and sandwiches?" Harry asked. No one said anything, but the growling of Ron's stomach was a clear enough clue, so Harry asked Kreacher to bring them a late-night snack. Thankfully, the Grangers' did not have the same reaction to the elf as Dudley and simply watched him quickly do his job and disappear.

"Harry, I'm sorry to disturb you so late, but we're just arrived and didn't know where else to go," stated Hermione after several long moments.

"It's okay, I wasn't sleeping anyway. So, tell me what happened. How did it go?" replied the boy.

"Not too well. We've managed to reverse the spell but only temporarily. It lasts for an hour or so, and then everything goes back… You said you could help. Please, Harry, I just… I just don't know what to do," said the girl with evident despair in her voice.

Ron, who sat on the sofa beside Hermione, was shifting uncomfortably and glancing warily at Snape, who now watched everyone with a bored face.

 _"Why doesn't he go somewhere else and mind his own business…"_ thought the Weasley-boy. Hero or not, he positively hated Snape, and tolerating him right now was really hard. Nearly impossible, actually. But he was in no position to argue, so he wisely followed Hermione's advice and kept his mouth shut.

"Don't worry, of course, I'll help you. You don't even need to ask. What exactly did you do?" said Harry, looking at two flabbergasted muggles.

"Well, the spell I used last year — _Memoria perturbo_ — is quite ancient really," Hermione started her explanation somewhere mid-thought " but it does have a counter-spell, _Memoria reddo_. It's not exactly an easy one to perform, I might say, but possible nonetheless. I practiced it for many hours. I'm sure I got it, but somehow… it doesn't work. Maybe something went wrong when I altered the memories for the first time, maybe now, I don't know. I just don't…" Her voice trailed into a whisper.

"Hermione, it's okay. All mind magic is quite tricky. It doesn't mean that you've done something wrong," said Harry reassuringly, and the girl smiled a little.

"But what if it's irreversible?"

"It is not. There are only quite a few spells that can not be reversed. And the one you used is definitely not one of them. I can tell you about it later if you want, okay?"

Hermione was so desperate that even the prospect of learning something new didn't cheer her up in the slightest. Not a good sign. Harry kicked himself mentally for abandoning his best friend in this. He should have been there for her. For all of them.

"Okay, let's set things right again, shall we?" smiled Harry and looked at Granger's again. The man and woman fidgeted, and Mr. Granger hugged his wife protectively. He threw a defiant glance at Potter but said nothing. Harry noticed, of course, and tried to smooth the situation a little.

"There's nothing to worry about. It definitely won't hurt or even feel uncomfortable. All you need to do is look me into the eyes, so I would be able to establish a connection with your mind and reverse the spell your daughter cast. And then you can do whatever you want. Go get some rest would be the best option after a long way here, I suppose."

Everyone was staring at Harry.

"And that's it?" asked Mrs. Granger.

"Yes. What did you expect? A dance with a tambourine? Bloody ritual with infants' sacrifice?" chuckled Potter, "If you want _that_ , I'm really not the person you need."

Harry accidentally glanced across the room at slightly amazed Snape. He wasn't looking at Harry and seemed somewhat lost in thoughts.

"What do you think?" he addressed to Grangers once again. "I'm not going to watch your memories or listen to your thoughts, so you don't need to worry about your privacy if that is what troubling you."

Both Grangers nodded somewhat reluctantly.

"And one more thing. Um… If you don't mind an observer, I'd like to ask Professor Snape to join me."

At the sound of his name, Snape woke up from his daydreaming and raised an eyebrow, questioningly looking at Potter.

"It would be a valuable experience that will allow you to understand better what you're getting into."

"If you say so," said Severus, forcing himself not to look at others' reactions to Harry's words. He knew exactly what it would be.

"You better take a seat then."

Snape approached the nearest empty chair and sat down. Harry looked at the man's eyes and waited for him to cast _Legilimens_. When Severus got into his mind, Potter pulled him through his shields, asked Snape to close the eyes, and turned his attention back to Grangers. The man looked anywhere but on Harry and his wife closed her eyes. Harry waited patiently for them to get ready.

Severus didn't have to open the eyes to see what's taking so long. He could see through Harry's. It was quite fascinating to be able to watch with someone else's eyes. It was one of the reasons why he was so interested in mental arts in the first place. This was the whole new level, though. Since the experience this morning (or more like yesterday morning because it was already past midnight), Severus found himself constantly thinking of that powerful place inside Potter's mind that felt so amazing. He tried several times to repeat the exercise, hoping to get a step closer to his own.

Truth be told, Severus didn't expect this turn of events with muggles but was glad that Harry proposed it to him. It meant that the boy was taking this little tutoring seriously. Snape wondered if Potter could hear his thoughts now… And after a few moments, he decided that it doesn't really matter. Instead, he focused on Grangers. He could definitely understand their anxiety about all this. Having a stranger penetrate their minds to find some memories they were not sure they want to have. Or not to have. He would be terrified.

While waiting, Severus looked at three children seated next to muggles. Granger seemed beyond nervous. She was twisting a top button on her shirt, almost tearing it off. Snape knew the feeling perfectly, that's why he wasn't irritated by the girl in the slightest. But Severus couldn't tell the same about Weasley. The boy repeatedly threw side-glances in the direction of the chair, currently occupied by him. Clearly, all the unfriendly feelings the man had towards the red-headed boy were mutual. The youngest Weasley simply sat there, taking everything in with interest and not bothering with someone else's hard feelings. She was the least troubled Weasley's offspring, and Severus never paid her much attention until that moment. There must be something about her if she caught Potter. If it wasn't another one of Dumbledore's game, of course.

Harry beamed at Snape's thoughts ramming around his head. He wondered if he should answer.

 _"You know I can hear you, right?"_ he asked mentally, still smiling.

Snape's voice immediately trailed off. Harry pressed the urge to look at the man.

_"Do the thing I showed you in the morning. When I enter Granger's mind, you might feel like it draws you like a magnet. It'll be strong, much stronger than usual, and very unpleasant, so —"_

"Okay, let's just do this," sighed Mr. Granger.

"Are you sure you ready?" asked Potter, interrupting his mental instructions. When the man nodded, he continued: "Good. When I say, just look me in the eyes for a few seconds, then."

_"Ready?"_

_[Yes.]_

_"Start occluding, then. Because I can't begin before you do so."_

Harry also closed the eyes to make things somewhat easier for Severus. When he felt that Snape is ready, he tied the professor's mind to his own securely, practically merging them in one, opened the eyes back, and met Mr. Granger's gaze.

After exercising this morning, Severus didn't have many troubles with occluding from himself and made it fairly quickly. He turned off all his senses one by one, cutting off the outside world. But instead of black nothingness he expected, he found himself inside Harry's bright and shiny one...um… He didn't know how to call it. A soul, maybe? Magic? Or not… Severus definitely has to ask this next time. Unless he asked it already. Anyway. That magnificent feeling of infinite power came back and…

 _"I'm starting to make a connection,"_ thundered Potter's voice from practically everywhere, distracting Snape, _"I will slow down a bit. Concentrate on what I'm doing."_

A sensation like he got in the epicenter of a hurricane caught Severus by surprise, and he boggled on the chair so abruptly that the book he was holding fell on the floor with a loud thud.

 _"Stay calm. Nothing will happen. Just let yourself get used to the feeling,"_ reassured Harry's soft voice. Severus tried. He honestly did. But the sensation got stronger and stronger with every second, and it made all attempts to concentrate useless. Not to mention an overwhelming wave of nausea that hit him in the process.

Until it just stopped.

Everything stopped, and Snape found himself slightly dizzy in the same 'Power palace,' as he called it, but this time it felt a bit different. Lesser of the sort. He wondered why.

But not for long, because the next second it all flew back, knocking the air out of Severus' lungs for the second time.

And then it happened all over again when Harry made the same connection with Mrs. Granger.

_"Are you okay?"_

_[Dizzy a little, but yes, I'm fine,]_ replied the professor after a moment.

 _"Good. Now, the plan is simple: I will enter Granger's mind, search it for the hidden memories and unlock them, so to speak,"_ Harry nodded to Grangers that everything is done and turned to look at Severus. The man was sitting stiffly in the chair. The book he read before lay on the floor opened. Potter got up and made his way towards it. _"Are you ready?"_ asked Harry, reading the book's cover.

_[I am.]_

Severus felt something heavy placed on his knees and touched the object cautiously. To his relive, it turned out to be just a book. Probably the same he dropped, he figured.

_"Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."_

_[I'm perfectly fine, Potter.]_

_"Harry."_

_[Whatever…]_ Harry chuckled loudly to everyone's surprise.

"So, what's now, Harry?" asked Hermione, standing up.

"Now I do my thing, Severus watches it, and you all go and rest," replied Potter.

"But —"

"Rest, Hermione. Everything will be alright in the morning. I promise," he said softly and laid a hand on the girl's shoulder. "All work will be in here," the boy touched his temple, "so there's no need for you to stay up. The process might take some time."

Three Grangers and Ginny begrudgingly bid their goodnights and moved to the door. "Ron, are you coming?" asked the youngest Weasley, turning around. Ron ignored her, looking intently at Harry.

_"Oh, Merlin… Please, not now…"_

"Harry. I need to talk to you," started the redhead.

_"Shit…"_

"It's not a good time, really. Can it wait until tomorrow?"

 _[He has no idea I'm here, hasn't he?]_ smirked Severus mentally. Harry didn't respond.

"It can't."

"Ron…"

"No, you will listen, and you will listen now!" Weasley suddenly blew up. His face twisted in the mix of emotions that flew by so fast that Harry couldn't quite catch them. Ron gripped his fists tightly and looked at his friend with fierce determination. And the next moment he was not so gently pushed out of the room, followed by the loud bang of the door.

"Ron, Professor Snape…"

"I don't care about Snape! Who are you?! What happened to my best friend?! We weren't supposed to keep secrets from each other! Not after everything we went through! It's just… It's not fair! I deserved to know!" yelled Weasley, not taking one breath.

Harry was losing control over the situation and it made him nervous. He didn't have time, nor he had strength for this. Especially with an audience… He didn't know what to do best. Ron was unstoppable at this point, it was clear as a day.

"And now you're standing here, looking at me like you did nothing wrong! Poor thing! 'My uncle locked me in a cupboard…' Bullshit! Do you know what I think? I think you're lying again like you always did!"

His face turned a deep shade of red.

For half a minute, they stood staring at each other in silence. Severus mumbled something in the background of Harry's mind, but the boy paid no attention to it.

"Are you quite done?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that…" Ron finally said in a much calmer voice. "I just… I wanted to apologize…"

"Oh, really?!" Potter's eyebrows shot up.

"Please, I… I shouldn't… I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Hermione says you did have a good reason, and she's the smart one, you know. So, I am sorry. I realize I wasn't always a perfect friend to you too."

Harry nodded. "It's fine."

"And I didn't mean what I said about your relatives… I know they were awful to you. Saw it...khm-khm...myself…" Ron grunted, looking away.

"Forget it."

Another minute passed in awkward silence.

"You are familiar with the concept of an unbreakable vow, aren't you?" Ron nodded. "That is the reason I couldn't tell you anything. Dumbledore made me swore an unbreakable vow back in our first year."

"Oh…"

The confusion and shame were evident on the Weasley's face, and the boy looked dropped his gaze on the floor.

"So you and… the greasy git" Ron whispered, pointing at the door, "are friends now?" he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

"He's here, you know, in my mind. He can see and hear everything you do. I tried to tell you, but…"

Terror shot across Ron's blood-drained face. The boy fidgeted, took a few unconscious steps back, but stumbled upon the wall, and with surprising yelp hit the back of his head.

 _[Good job, Potter,]_ sneered Severus pleased with the disrespectful giraffe's reaction. The man watched the whole scene, trying not to think. He was not comfortable in the slightest with Harry's ability to hear his inner monologues, even if the boy ignored them for the most part. One might assume that Snape should be more at the ease with Potter after everything discovered by now, but in reality, this change in attitude only made things worse. Every moment was awkward. Especially now. Severus wasn't sure why Harry didn't throw him out of his mind. He tried not to listen, but it was awfully hard to ignore.

"It might not be the best idea to insult your Headmaster right in the face," smirked Harry, silently agreeing with Severus.

"Why didn't you tell me before?!" flared Ron with a hoarse voice.

"As I said, I tried," replied Harry calmly. "But it's not like you gave me a chance to speak a word."

Terrified with the upcoming consequences, Ron glanced at the door to the sitting room. Harry knew Severus wasn't mad or even offended by the insult. He simply did not care.

"Relax, Ron. Do you really think he gives a shit about your antics? I highly doubt that." Harry said softly, crossing the arms and deciding to ease some of his friend's turmoil. "It is time to grow up, you know. I've told you before, information is a time-ticking bomb. Your words have power, you should use them wisely."

Weasley only nodded, wished good night, and, as quickly as possible, fled upstairs to his room.

 _[That was… Very ungryffingor of you,]_ said Snape with uncovered surprise. And Harry realized that he probably never told anyone about his sorting. He went back into the room and sat down on the now-empty couch.

_"I don't see why you're so surprised. The Sorting hat had a hard time while trying to decide where to put me. It thought about Slytherin mostly."_

Severus expected anything but not this. Harry-bloody-Potter could've ended up in his House? It would've been hell!

 _"Exactly my thought,"_ chuckled the boy. Snape abruptly stopped his train of thoughts.

_"Just kidding. Slytherin was an excellent option. Perfect even. But with everyone's expectations… It would be bizarre. And all I wanted to do at that point was to blend in, so I chose Gryffindor."_

_[You chose?]_

Harry lay on his back and looked at the ceiling.

 _"I did. I sorted myself into Gryffindor,"_ the boy snorted lightly.

_[You won't cease to amaze me, Potter.]_

Harry didn't reply.

 _[Can I…]_ Severus paused for a second, unsure if he wanted to proceed. _[What he said about a cupboard. Is it true?]_

Harry stilled. His mood fell without a chance to be restored. Everything was slowly turning into a living nightmare, and his current state redounded deep depression more and more. Frighteningly often, the boy remembered his young age that was colored with blessed indifference. To everything and everyone. But he couldn't do it anymore. Too late for it. He wasn't that person, Harry knew it. That's why he pulled himself together and replied politely instead of sending Snape to hell with his questions.

"Yes," Harry whispered sadly out loud. Severus didn't say anything. He felt everything Harry just did and spoke louder than any words.

_"Now, if you don't have any more questions, then prepare yourself to get back to the hurricane. I'm making a connection with Mr. Granger's mind."_

Snape sighed and tightened his grip on the chair.

A few moments later the man found out (to his great relief) that the trip to Granger's head was not as bad as it initially was. He still got sick, but at least he didn't want to vomit all his guts at once. Harry gave him several minutes to calm down and then started to slowly dive deeper and deeper into the man's mind, briefly stopping on each level as if searching for something. They didn't talk much. The mind is a very complex thing, Severus knew it all too well after years of using Legilimency, so he tried not to bother the boy more than he already did and simply observed. Not that there was much to actually _look_ at. Legilimizing someone was vastly different from using pensive. All thoughts and memories in one's mind were mixed up with each other and represented one seemingly endless 'sea' of something slightly resembling images or sounds or scents or tastes, echoing in the head. Everything at once and nothing concrete. And all that legilimens could count on was his own senses that guided him through this giant mess toward the one thing he (or she) was looking for. Some sort of a 'sixth sense', so to speak.

But there was nothing new for Severus, except maybe that everything felt sharper and more clear than usual. So he silently watched Harry's masterful performance and waited for the next step. The deeper in mind they descended the thinner its contents become, until somewhere halfway to the bottom where Snape knew the 'power palace' — the magical core — must be… _[What's with muggles, by the way? What do they have?]_

 _"The same thing that wizards, only empty. That's why you felt as if you're in the middle of a hurricane. My magic rushed through the connection to fill the 'power palace'_ _of a muggle,"_ Harry smirked at the name. _We'll discuss it later."_

Anyway, Potter found what they came here for. A spot in the constantly moving 'sea' that seemed frozen. Severus never saw something like this before, but he read about similar cases in one of the books years ago. The author was confident that there was nothing to be done about it because even the strongest legilimens couldn't actually _do_ much inside the other's mind, except extract information and maybe sometimes disturb the peaceful slumber, moving too fast and too chaotically and thereby causing pain.

But Potter did not care about the impossibility of doing what he intended. And as soon he located the problem, Severus felt another surge of magic that flew through him to the spot, which made him sick all over again. And he did not know how, but he knew for sure what that magic was supposed to do. He sensed it somehow. And, to Snape's surprise, the 'frozen spot' immediately 'unfroze'. Just like that…

 _"All done here. Moving back now,"_ echoed all around.

— - ♦ - —

Half an hour later, Severus finally was able to look, listen or talk and quit being constantly sick as hell. But it wasn't as good, as it could seem. Being back meant not only that sickness stopped, but also that that fascinating feeling of having endless power ceased as well.

It was becoming quite a concerning matter if you think of it. Severus knew firsthand how addictive magic and power could be, but not like this. He caught himself presuming that he even didn't mind having Potter in his head if it helped him to get back to the Power palace. It's just…unbelievable.

Like, 'who are you, and what the hell have you done with Severus Snape?' unbelievable. No, it's time to do something about it. On the other hand, Potter seemed to be just fine, so maybe it wasn't that bad. Perhaps the boy knew what he was doing. No, he definitely knew that. And surely he wouldn't let Severus became an addict. Not after all troubles Potter no doubt went through previous years for the sake of his not so hated professor.

It was another very, (and I mean — very) unsettling issue. Snape couldn't bring himself to even think about it. Not properly, at least… Since the moment he dived out of the pensive, he simply collected new-found facts about the boy, put them neatly onto the highest shelf in his mind, and moved on. Because it was too overwhelming to process. Even the fact that Harry (yes, he was _Harry_ now!) understood his struggles and did not push things, was too much.

Potter didn't say a word after breaking the connection with Severus or didn't even open the eyes. Snape calmly watched the peaceful scrawny figure on the couch. Less than five minutes ago, the boy saved three lives from the abyss of the war aftermath, and he didn't seem to acknowledge it. Or care enough to seek acknowledgment from others, which was more likely.

Severus knew it because Harry certainly hasn't done that with him. He revealed his secluded protection over the years and didn't ask for a mere 'thank you…' Astonished, Snape took in a sharp breath and closed the eyes. He hasn't felt so profusely ashamed in years. Great. Now he would torture himself with yet another portion of guilt. Not that he didn't deserve it, of course. He very much did.

And the incident with Weasley-boy… The level of trust Harry granted his former tormentor afterward… No, stop it.

Deciding that he will have plenty of time to admonish himself later, Severus turned his train of thoughts in another direction. He needed to analyze everything that happened in both Granger's minds. Harry didn't offer much explanation during the process, but strangely Snape understood why it was like that. He was grateful for it even. It was some kind of test to check Severus' abilities and potential. The man wanted to know how many chances he had in this mysterious art. If Potter formulated it into words, it would only damage their slowly developing new understanding. _"Little insightful bastard…"_ chuckled Severus quietly and got up. He will think it all over in his bedroom with a glass of good firewhiskey.


	12. Day one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war is over, but not all enemies are defeated. Strange things start to happen around Harry and those who are close to him, and once again he must step forward to fight.
> 
> Who are they? What do they want? Why are they doing this? Many questions, but no answers.
> 
> Super!Potter. Snape's alive. Abuse. Post-canon.
> 
> There's a side-story for this fic. It is called 'Mirror: the war', and it's about Harry's school years. A background of sorts :)  
> I work on them both at the same time. Be so kind and check it out if you're interested! :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: The second part of this chapter contains a description of violence and rape (the last one is not detailed, more like a hint actually).

## Day one

And that day came.

Draco opened his eyes after a blissfully dreamless sleep and yawned. Light streamed through the window, showing countless specks of dust dancing around the room. If only the day would be as cheerful as it tried to appear.

The boy turned his head to look at Harry's bed. Strangely enough, it was empty. Even more, it looked exactly like it did when Draco walked into the room yesterday. Frowning, the blond sat up. Where is Potter? In his head, Malfoy knew he shouldn't depend so much on the other boy. Savior or not, where did his pride go, after all? And why didn't he care about it? Good questions, especially the last one. Draco felt disturbingly comfortable around Harry even now, when he finally started to get back to his senses. It didn't matter. Most likely, he would be sent to the empty Malfoy manor soon after Potter's therapy to wander around the deserted house until September. Harry had his own things to worry about, after all.

Dread slowly crept upon Draco, sending troll-sized goosebumps all over his back. Today's upcoming events did nothing to lighten the mood, either. How could he face his past horrors? No, he definitely couldn't. Draco simply wasn't strong enough. No, no one will make him. Never.

When did he become so pathetic…

Potter's absence only increased the feeling of inevitable doom. Hoping that shower would help wash off raising panic, Draco quickly got up and walked in the direction of the nearest bathroom.

But he never made it there. The deathly silence of the hall stopped Malfoy in his tracks. There was absolutely no sound. What if he was alone here? What if Harry and Severus decided he's a lost cause and left the house? No, no, no, no... It can be that. Suddenly, all oxygen vanished from the corridor. Taking deep, fast, and rather unsteady breathes, Draco leaned on the wall and grabbed his throat with the right hand, clutching his left to the chest tightly. Fighting a wave of dizziness, the boy slowly slipped to the floor.

"Oh, dear, what happened? Are you feeling sick? Let me help you."

Draco looked up at the unfamiliar woman with unruly brown curls, then at the hand that she held out for him. What the hell...

— - ♦ - —

Harry awoke with the start, as an overwhelming pure panic surged through him. He wasn't even aware of the fact that he fell asleep on the same couch he meditated yesterday, which, of course, was a good thing. For the first time since Dudley's appearance in the house, Harry slept peacefully for a few hours in a row. Sadly, there wasn't any time to dwell on new-found bliss. Something happened with Draco. Potter quickly got up and hurried upstairs where he knew the blond currently was.

"Draco?" Harry asked the trembling figure that lay on the second-floor corridor, rushed closer, so Malfoy would be able to see him, and squeezed his shoulder, kneeling beside the boy.

"Draco, breathe. Look at me. It's ok, everything is fine," he reassured. "One slow breath in, one slow breath out. Come on. One breath in, then one breath out."

Draco was incredibly relieved to see Harry. Never in his life, he could imagine being so utterly happy about it. Not even at the moment when Potter showed up in the goddamn basement a few weeks prior, for the sole reason of being highly incoherent those merry days. Unfortunately, this only made things worse. Spread upon the wooden floor, Draco desperately tried to match Harry's breathing but his lungs simply refused to work properly. Presuming that he still had them, of course.

Seeing Draco's struggles, Harry summoned a vial of Calming draught from the lab, uncorked it, and then cautiously poured in the blond's mouth. It seemed to be working because half a minute later Malfoy relaxed a bit, and his breathing started slowly getting back to normal. That's when Harry distinctly sensed four pairs of eyes burning holes on the back of his head.

"May I suggest that you all go back to your own business?" asked Potter without looking back. When nobody moved, he turned around and glared at the intrudes' faces. "Does this place look like a fucking zoo to you? Get out!" he barked finally. Three Grangers suddenly unfroze from the shock and hurriedly went to their room, throwing concerned glances at two boys sitting on the floor. Harry was somewhat surprised by the lack of comments from Hermione but decided not to dwell on it. Severus lingered on the spot for another moment, then turned around and silently retreated from sight.

Sighing, Harry averted his attention back to the wide-eyed blond. "How are you feeling? What happened?" he asked.

"I don't know... It's just... I don't know," mumbled Draco, and his cheeks flushed red. Harry scooted closer to the wall and leaned on it. For nearly five minutes they were silent, lost in thoughts. 

"Is there anything that's troubling you? You need to be as calm as possible during the treatment, so it would be best if we talk through everything now rather than halfway. Think about it, okay?"

"Okay." By that time, the blond completely came back to his senses, and apart from awkwardness, felt perfectly fine. How could he fall into a full-blown panic attack over nothing? Beyond understanding…

"Where have you been going?" Harry asked after another minute.

"To the bathroom," replied the boy. Potter nodded and stood up, holding a hand out to help Draco. "By the way, what time is it?"

"Around half-past six, I think," Harry said. "Something like that. You're sure you're okay?"

"Yes," Malfoy waved Potter's words aside. "Just gonna take a shower."

"Okay. I'll be in the kitchen. Think up some questions."

And with that, they turned around and headed in the opposite directions.

Next minute Harry found himself beside the workbench, gathering all necessities for banana pancakes and, once again, feeling Snape's burning gaze on his back. The professor clearly wanted to talk, and usually, Harry wouldn't mind that, but right now he wasn't in the conversational mood. He needed to concentrate on the current mindless task and keep himself from thinking too much of what he's about to start today.

Potter was anxious but couldn't tell why exactly. He highly doubted that it was about possible pain or terror he would have to go through. As sad as it may be, Harry was quite adept at these particular situations. Maybe he was afraid to screw things up… The amount of trust Draco placed in him was not a surprise really — in the blond's emotional state recently — but it still made him nervous. And Harry needed to keep calm as long as physically possible.

"Khm, Potter."

Harry turned his head slightly to acknowledge the fact that he's listening but kept stirring the pastry.

"Are you alright?"

A surprisingly neutral tone with which that question was asked made Potter turn around and downright stare at the man. He was expecting bollocking of some sort for his earlier not-so-polite dismissal from the hall, not this. _"I'm about to endure two weeks' worth of torture, how do you think I am?"_ he thought. But it wasn't such a great idea to say it out loud, Harry knew that, so he just shrugged.

"I'll be fine. How are you? Any headache?"

"I'll be fine," replied Severus sarcastically, and Harry smirked.

"Did you meditate before sleep last night?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "If you mean occlusion, then, yes, I do that every night."

"No, I meant meditation. Sorry, I guess I should've explained better."

"So it appears."

Harry chuckled lightly and turned back to cooking. "Mental arts are immensely important to what I am about to teach you, they are fundamental tools, so to speak. If you are good at Occlumency you won't have big problems with performing magic on yourself because you know — to some degree at least — how your mind is functioning. If you are good at Legilimency you won't have big problems with performing magic on others because you already know the basic principle. Meditation, on the other hand, has an entirely different purpose. It will help you to find, feel, and understand your own magic. It's much easier to reach by calming yourself than occluding, as you've been doing thus far. Let alone it'd be much more useful because you won't always have the opportunity to completely cut off the outside world. Plus meditation will help you develop a certain level of awareness of your body."

Severus watched how Harry grabbed the plate with pancakes, made a cup of black coffee, and sat down on the opposite side of the table. Everything the boy said made perfect sense, and once again Snape caught himself on not getting to those conclusions sooner.

"I have a few books on meditation that may be of some use. Kreacher will get them to your room," said Harry, once again interrupting the silence.

"Thank you," Severus nodded, dropped his gaze down to the parchment, and continued making notes, leaving the boy to his breakfast.

"Is the floo working?" asked the man after a few minutes.

"Partly, yes. Why?"

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm a Headmaster and have a lot of work to do. Moreover, I need to find two new professors this year."

"Could it wait for two weeks?" Harry finished eating and made his way to the sink.

"For what possible reason?" asked Snape in surprise, stopping Potter mid-wash.

"You know who's watching us. As a possible target, you shouldn't wander around. It's outright stupid."

"Potter, I'm not your fifteen-year-old charge," replied Snape sternly. "I went through quite a few difficult situations in the past and perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

Harry was an exceptionally patient man but not today.

"I am well aware of what situations you went through," he said, trying to keep temper in check. "I don't think you understand, however, what exactly we're dealing with. Tom Riddle was a lovely daisy compared to each of the individuals, who threaten us now. If it wasn't for Horcruxes, Voldemort, along with all of his little minions, would've been dead just like this," he clicked his fingers, "the moment they set foot on the graveyard. I would've seen to it."

Harry paused, dangerous flames dancing in his usually calm eyes, and waited for his words sink in, then sighed, instantly blinking away the fire.

"There's no such thing as a safe place, not with them. Any protection you could possibly use can be removed or transfigured into something else quite easily. The only semblance of security we have now is an anti-magical barrier around the house, keyed to me. Hogwarts does not have it, not yet at least. I've spent so many years trying to ensure that your sorry ass was able to keep glaring and sneering, and I'm not going to stop now just because your tremendous ego might get wounded. So you need to either delay your work for a fortnight or do everything from here for a while."

Dead since dangled in the kitchen.

"Sorry," whispered Harry, turning to leave. "I'm sorry."

"Potter," Severus' voice caught up with the Golden boy in the doorway, stopping him.

"I said I'm sorry," sighed Harry without looking at the Headmaster. Severus nodded, stomping down his anger and deciding to ignore the insult, and willed himself to ask a question for which he desperately wanted to know the answer for some time now.

"Why?"

Surprised, Harry glanced at the man. "Why what?"

A few seconds ticked by while Snape tried to convince himself that it was too late for backing off now.

"Why have you spent so many years trying to...prolong my existence?"

Not that Harry didn't expect that question sooner or later… But he still wasn't ready to answer it. And to be perfectly honest, Severus wasn't ready to hear it either. They did have an astonishingly decent relationship lately, but the ground was still too shaky, and the trust that Snape had in Harry was too uncertain. But he promised to answer all questions, and do so truthfully. And he always kept his word.

Harry came closer to the table. "Before I answer, I have to ask you to _do_ try not to think too much out of this. After all, initially, you weren't supposed to know about any of it."

When Snape merely raised an eyebrow in reply, Harry continued.

"Because it made me feel something other than annoyance or anger," he paused, searching the man's face for the slightest reactions. "Because I could relate. Not once in the past years, I had someone who would be there for me...who would _do_ something for me. You know, something real for a person I really am, not for a scar-headed poster-boy, everyone thought me to be," he paused again. "I told you already that I can easily see through people, so I saw what struggles you were dealing with. And I knew Dumbledore well enough to know that there _will_ be more. Everyone seemed keen on keeping their distance from you, and you weren't trying to protect yourself either, so I did it for you instead. Everyone needs someone to watch their back. And even though I readily fell into the idiotically childish trap Dumbledore set up for me, I still had power over the man. Why don't put it in good use?"

Snape was stunned.

"Because I was not worth it. Because I never said a thing even remotely close to 'nice' to you. Because I hated your guts since the moment you were conceived," he stated coldly, looking very much like the feared potions master.

"Well… I'm quite used to that, aren't I?" replied the boy quietly.

And with that, Harry spun around and walked out of the room, leaving Severus to gape at the closed door.

— - ♦ - —

An hour later both Potter and Malfoy were seated on their separate beds, looking at each other.

"So, if you don't have any more questions, we shall start. But I'll ask you to disturb me only if it is an emergency, okay? Stay close to Snape, he'll help if you have another panic attack," said Harry. The blond nodded and lay on his bed.

Harry took a deep breath, closed the eyes, and ducked into Draco's mind, going lower and lower until he reached a level where all of the boy's memories about those weeks were sealed. Just stop blocking them was the preferable way because it would save him the energy he needed to deal with the stuff, but Harry promised Malfoy he wouldn't do that. So the only option left was to go and lock himself there.

Just fantastic.

Taking another deep breath, Potter dived under the barrier that kept all horrors away and caught the first memory.

_"Draco, wake up, son. Draco!" whispered her voice into my ear. Begrudgingly I opened the eyes, looked at her worried face, and felt a small smile tugging my own lips. She smiled back._

_"It's time to go, son. Your father had a meeting with Macnair and Mulciber last night, and they found a safe place for us to hide. We need to go now, Aurors can show up any minute." Sighing, I got up and went to the bathroom. I probably should feel at least uneasy after the Dark Lord's demise yesterday, but strangely it wasn't the case. A shadow of relief stubbornly danced somewhere at the back of my mind, no matter how hard I tried to suppress it. It was wrong. If my father ever finds out about it... No, I don't want to even think about what would happen then._

_After quickly dealing with nature's call, I washed my hands and face with cold water, brushed my teeth, and returned to the room. Mother waited patiently, sitting on the bed on which I slept peacefully five minutes ago. She nodded, got up, and gestured to the door, silently directing me there. But before we made it out to the corridor, I felt her hands pressing on my shoulders and pulling me into a fierce hug. "It's going to be fine, everything is going to be fine, son…" whispered mother quietly, and I wondered if it was more for her sake than mine. But after a moment, I realized that I truly do not care which. Nor do I care about crashed hopes for a future or ruined family name or years of life as a fugitive waiting ahead. All worries simply ceased to exist. We were alive and she was hugging me...what else could I possibly ask for?_

_We stood like that for a minute or so, until the door swung open to reveal father with an angry scowl on the face. "What are you doing? There's no time for your sentimentalities."_

_Mother instantly let go of me but didn't move aside, positioning herself between me and my father. He glanced at her strangely._

_"Change of plans. We appariting from here."_

_And he stepped confidently inside, closing the door behind. "Take my arm."_

_A few moments later we all appeared in some forest and strode after father in Merlin knows what direction._

_Something was off… Something was really off. I could feel it with my gut. It wasn't often when this kind of hunches was actually worthwhile, but today… Today it felt stronger than before. Regretfully. I only hoped we won't get caught — I wasn't ready for Azkaban. Not that I will ever be ready for it, mind you. Mother tightened her grip on my hand._

While Harry watched how two unsuspecting Malfoys marched straight to the death trap, he couldn't help but feel the too familiar icy tentacles of dread squeeze his chest. He didn't know what exactly was waiting for him in this little horror trip because Draco never talked about it, and the truth was, he did not want to know. After all these years, one might think that Harry would be quite used to all this, but no… His demons never stopped tormenting him. And now Harry was about to invite a few more to their merry hunt. He started to really doubt his own sanity. Maybe he was crazy after all.

Stop it. Stop. The last thing he needed right now was to float in his own misery. Harry shut his emotions and feelings away and concentrated solely on those of Draco. If he was to do what intended, he needed a clear mind.

_Nobody said a word during the whole journey. And it wasn't until we reached some nasty old hut when father came to an abrupt halt and turned around to face us. His eyes were harsh but an unhealthy spark of sheer madness danced within, making the man look terrifying. He started slowly circling us like a shark._

_"So, Draco…" he began insinuatingly. "Is there anything you would like to tell me?"_

_Eyes widened, I frantically started to search through my mind, attempting to find a clue of what the hell he was talking about. What did I do wrong?_

_Noticing my distress, my mother tried to step up for me._

_"Lucius, what is…"_

_"Shhh…" His hand pressed against her lips. "I'm not talking to you, my dear, stay still," he whispered to the mother's ear. Astonished, she complied, and my father resumed his_ _leisure_ _pacing and stopped directly in front of me._

_"Draco. I'm losing my patience. Don't make me say it myself, boy, I promise, you won't like the consequences."_

_"I… I… I don't know, father. What do you want me to say? I didn't do anything, I swear!"_

Feeling Draco's rising panic as the blond looked into his so-called father's cold eyes, Harry decided that it was a good place to start. He willed Malfoy's mind to believe the emotions they both felt from this moment on to be Harry's, and Harry's alone. Potter's magic immediately complied to do its master's bidding, and somewhere at the back of Harry's consciousness, where the connection with Draco was located, he felt a tiny bit of pressure leaving his exhausted mind. And fear...fear he could deal with.

_"Well… How about you tell me why you are still breathing," continued father, raising his perfect eyebrow._

_"What?!" mother cried out, but couldn't say anything further because a loud slap suddenly broke her words mid-way. She rapidly clasped her red cheek, looking in wild shock at her husband._

_"What are you doing?!" I exclaimed, rushing closer to her, but stopping when a_ _wand_ _tip pressed to my back._

_"Father, what's happening? What are you doing?"_

_"You lost all your credit, boy. Shut your mouth and do not interrupt me!" slowly said father, stressing every word. "Move aside."_

_Wide-eyed with shock, I couldn't shift a finger._

_In one swift movement, father's heavy hand turned me around and squeezed my neck with such force, that hundreds of black dots clouded my vision. He leaned closer and hissed, "I said, move aside, did I not?"_

_He tightened his grip, and I tried to frantically nod in response, which was difficult. My lungs burned without oxygen and consciousness slowly glided away, giving up to the darkness. Far away in the background, I heard mother's cries — though, what was the cause I could not tell — and somebody's laughter._

_At the last moment, the air I was so desperate for, filled in my exhausted lungs, but with overwhelming relief came an agonizing pain that shot from my nape down the spine._

_And then everything went black._

_One moment later or at least it seemed so, I opened my eyes again. A web of thin cracks dotted the ceiling, visible even in the semidarkness of the room. Where the hell am I?_

_Suddenly aware of the strange indistinct noises somewhere near, I lifted my head so I could see the source of them. Three men stood behind the bars with their backs on me, one of them had his pants down. He was banging someone with long blond hair on the large table. She looked strangely familiar…_

_Fucking hell!_

_I remembered._

_"Mulciber, I believe it's my turn now, " hissed Macnair and pushed the other man aside._

_"What the fuck are you doing!? Leave her alone!" I yelled in horror, sitting up despite the intense pain caused by my abrupt movement._ _They all spun around and looked at me._ _"You sick bastards! Leave her alone! Mother!"_

_Only now I noticed how much blood was everywhere… Dry dark stains covered the floor around the table, the table itself, and walls all around. All three men looked like they took a blood bath recently, their eyes sparkled with pure malice. My stomach ached from the disgusting image and I threw up._

_The next second someone grabbed my hair and with unbelievable force smacked my head on the concrete floor, right in the pool of something warm and stinky. Pain shoot throughout my skull and the world almost went black again. Almost._

_After a few moments or minutes or hours — it's hard to tell — of lying as still as possible (every slightest movement caused sharp pain), I slowly started to become cognizant of my surroundings. Sounds were first. Someone's heavy breaths and groans, rhythmic thuds, shifting feet, stupid chuckling. The last one was so out of place, that it made me nauseous again._

_With that sensation, the haze that clouded my mind finally fell off and grief came instead. Grief, and shame, and terror, and awareness. Awareness of my own weakness and utter uselessness. How could that possibly be happening? Poor mother… Something skewed my vision. Is it tears?_

_What is wrong with those people?! That man was supposed to be a father and a husband. He was supposed to stand by us no matter what... And yet, here we are._

_I hate him. I hate him so much._

_With fire burning inside of me, I opened my eyes and tried to get up. The puddle of vomit, where I was lying just a second ago, and pain that rang in my head because of the abrupt movement did their job and I got sick again._

_A few moments later, my vision cleared and I risked to very slowly move a little to someplace not covered in blood or vomit, and not without difficulty. When I finally looked up, all I saw was an empty table in an empty room, except for a ragged once blond figure on the floor near my cell._

_"Mum…" My hand involuntarily reached out to her. She was a mess. I tried not to look at her naked severely broken body and focused on the once upon a time beautifully chiseled face, but it was barely recognizable now. Hot tears clouded my eyes again, but I fought it. "Mum, please… Mum…" I whispered over and over again, but her eyes remained still and distant._

_What if… No._

_No, it can't be._

_"Mother! Wake up!" I screamed in sudden panic. "Mum! MUM! Please. Please…"_

_The flow of tears streamed from my eyes but I didn't care anymore. Nor did I care about the pain that wrapped my whole body._

_She's gone._

_Who knows how much time had passed as I simply lay there, absentmindedly staring into the dead empty eyes. 'It's going to be fine,' she said. Fine… Hah. Well, guess what, mother? It's not. Nothing_ _ever_ _is going to be 'fine' again. Those crazy bastards probably prepared something equally awful for me. Or worse. 'Everything is going to be fine.' No._

_But surely they won't rape me to death too. No, they won't. They're not that type of people. Who am I kidding? They're exactly that type of people. Fuck. "Oh, stop it," I hissed._

_Great. Talking to myself now. You've lost your mind, Draco. Congratulations._

_It's a pity I can't Avada myself… That would've been wonderful._

_"Your very last chance, boy," said a quiet familiar voice of a man who I used to consider my father back then, in a previous life. He opened the door to my cell, lazily walked inside, knelt near me, and tenderly moved aside the fringe from my eyes._

_"Tell me what happened, and we will forget about today."_

_He looked so sincere. Maybe it's true. Maybe if I'd tell everything, we will leave that horrible place, leave that blasted country, move on with our lives as a real family._

_"You promise?" I asked in a small voice._

_But instead of a reply, he slapped me on the face so hard, I thought for a moment that he broke my jaw. The sound of it rang in my ears for a long time._

_"You've lost us our Lord, you disgusting ferret! You've caused your mother's death!" He squeezed my throat again. "Look at her! Are you really that dense that you think it's forgivable?!" roared the man._

_"You will never leave this place," he whispered in my face. "Never."_

_He threw me back and stood up._

_"Crucio."_

_Agonizing pain exploded, burning me from inside._


	13. Struggling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war is over, but not all enemies are defeated. Strange things start to happen around Harry and those who are close to him, and once again he must step forward to fight.
> 
> Who are they? What do they want? Why are they doing this? Many questions, but no answers.
> 
> Super!Potter. Snape's alive. Abuse. Post-canon.
> 
> There's a side-story for this fic. It is called 'Mirror: the war', and it's about Harry's school years. A background of sorts :)  
> I work on them both at the same time. Be so kind and check it out if you're interested! :)

# Struggling

_**The same day, evening** _

Hermione sat on one of the couches in the library and tried to read a book that she snatched from the nearest shelf without even a glance at it. The girl never felt _that_ miserable in her entire life, and she had a fair share of all kinds of crap in her eighteen years.

She woke up this morning from the sound of a door closing. Someone's been in her room, and Hermione couldn't help but immediately grab her wand in alarm and jump out of the bed before her brain even had a chance to fully take in the surroundings. Almost a year spent with the most wanted person in an endless 'hide-and-seek' all over the country could do that to you… But it was in the past now. She was safe. They all were.

The girl dressed quickly, tucked her wand into her sleeve, and went to the bathroom. Her parents always got up early, and Hermione wanted to check on them as soon as possible. She didn't know practically anything about those new powers Harry apparently had but believed in her friend nonetheless. If Harry says that it'll be fine and nothing is irreversible, so she will trust him. Today was one of the happiest days in Granger's life, but standing before the closed door to her parents' bedroom, she felt dreadful. The upcoming conversation couldn't possibly be an easy one.

And it wasn't.

So the girl hid in her favorite place in the world — the library, and buried in a book, trying to muffle the voices in her head that continually repeated the conversation, and replace the image of hurt in her mum and dad's eyes. They didn't shout, they never do. They didn't accuse her of anything. Just listened to her story, looking sadly at their daughter and kept silent. They forgave her, of course. How could they not? But Hermione still felt awful… As if she betrayed them somehow, even all she was trying to do was to save their lives. Completely irrational!

When they bumped into Draco in the hall, it turned out that Harry was not to be disturbed that day, and later when Mr. and Mrs. Granger wanted to leave, professor Snape told them that it wasn't possible because of the ward around the house that responds only to Harry, and Harry was not to be disturbed for two weeks at least… Just peachy. She couldn't spend time with Harry because he's busy, she couldn't be around Ron because he still acted like a total git, her parents clearly needed some time and space to come to terms with the situation, and no one else was here except Malfoy and Snape and Hermione couldn't very well spend time with them, could she? Not that she had prejudices against Slytherins, but… Well, she had prejudices against those two specific Slytherins. Hermione knew it was wrong (especially because she saw to what lengths _Harry_ , of all people, was going for them) and honestly tried to work on that, but old habits die hard… There was too much history between them. Though after seeing Malfoy that morning…

"Hermione," a quiet voice pulled the girl out of her musings. She tore her gaze off the book she was staring at and glanced at the intruder.

"Ron," she mumbled.

"Are you okay? You look troubled. Is it about your parents? Did it work?" the redhead asked, looking worried.

"It's fine. I mean it worked," Hermione lowered her gaze again.

"Uff, that's a relief," smiled Ron. "What happened then?" He walked into the room.

"Nothing, nothing," the girl got up and strode toward the shelf to place the book back.

"Hermione, I'm maybe not a genius, but even I can see that you're upset about something. We're kinda together now, so please, talk to me." And he sat on the couch. Granger sighed…he was right.

"Sorry. It's really not a big deal. I talked to my parents this morning and it was tough, that's all."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

Hermione smirked at her boyfriend's expression. He clearly was impatient to tell her something but tried to contain himself and be there for her first. It felt nice, and the girl's mood lifted a bit. "No, Ron, there isn't much to talk about anyway, it'll pass, don't worry. Is there something _you_ wanted to tell me?" she smiled.

The redhead smiled back shyly. "How do you always know everything?" he laughed but sobered quickly. "I apologized to Harry yesterday."

"And? What did he say? What did you say?" Hermione sat on the opposite couch and leaned forward.

"Well… I shouted at him first…"

"Ron!"

"I know, I know, it was stupid. But I couldn't help it… Anyway, then I told him that you told me I'm being an ass and that you're always right and that I'm sorry. He didn't really wanna talk though, so he said that it's alright and I went to my room. That's all."

"That's all?" the girl's eyes widened a bit in surprise.

"Well, Snape… I mean, Professor Snape kinda was in his mind or something. He could hear and see everything… Why are you laughing?… It's not funny! Stop it!"

But Hermione couldn't stop. It's like something broke the dumb inside her and all emotions that boiled there for days rushed away, leaving her soul washed anew. It was cathartic.

"Sorry," she said, still giggling. "I'm sorry, Ron. I didn't mean to laugh, just imagined your face when you found out who was listening," Hermione chuckled one more time.

"I'm really sorry."

Ron looked at her for a few moments, pouting.

"Oh, don't be a child! It's going to be fine. It's not like you insulted professor Snape right in the face," and then added in slight alarm, "You didn't insult him, did you?"

"I might've called him a greasy git… Accidently," said Ron, blushing a bit.

"Ronald, honestly! How old are you?" she huffed. "Did you at least apologize?"

"Um…"

"You better, then," Hermione said, stubbornly crossing her arms. There was no point in arguing when she did that, so the boy decided to quickly drop the subject.

"Dumbledore made Harry swear an unbreakable vow in our first year, can you imagine?"

"WHAT!?" Hermione gasped. "How… Why?… Why!?" Ron leaned on the back of the couch, noticing with relief that his girlfriend's wrath immediately changed direction from him to their former headmaster.

"As if I knew. Harry just said that that's why he couldn't tell us before."

Granger jumped on her feet and started nervously pacing the library. "No… No, it couldn't be. He wouldn't. Why would he do something like that? We were eleven for Merlin's sake! It's just… It's awful!"

"Don't know. Maybe Harry already had those mysterious powers and Dumbledore wanted to control him," the boy suggested.

"But that's terrible! Why didn't he just ask? I'm sure, Harry wouldn't refuse to help!" exclaimed Hermione.

Ron threw a grave glance at her. "Are you sure about that?" he muttered. Granger's eyebrows shot up.

"No, I know he's our friend and he will always be our friend no matter what, but Hermione… Let's face it. He's different. There's a whole new level in him that we have no clue about. I mean, he's sticking up for Snape! He goes and pulls him out of Azkaban and right onto the headmaster's chair! He's letting him in his mind for Merlin knows why! It's like they're best buddies or something! And he's saving _Malfoy_! Have you seen him at the meeting? He actually cares about that ferret-faced!"

"So he must have a reason for it, then," said Hermione firmly.

"I'm sure he does, but that's exactly my point. Old Harry would never have done it. Not for _them_. He's different. We don't know him at all."

They both fell silent for several minutes. Ron was right of course. Harry behaved strangely from the moment Hagrid carried him out of the Forbidden forest. Hermione thought first that the death experience had changed him, but now, if she really thought about it, that version didn't fit completely. Harry had more close calls than any of them could imagine, he practically lived next-door with Death for as long as Hermione knew the boy. And he told them about that conversation with Dumbledore they had after Voldemort cast the killing curse. There's no way that yet another close call and yet another chat with the headmaster or some mysterious superpowers could change Harry _that_ much. No, it must be something else entirely. But what?

The girl walked over the window and looked at the late-spring sun. "What is it, Harry? What did we miss?" she whispered under her breath.

Hermione started rummaging through the facts and observations about Potter she collected over the years. He was quiet and never started anything. Too small for his age and far too skinny for her liking. Always wore the same overwashed and oversized clothes when he could easily afford himself brand new things that actually fit. He had a brilliant mind, and was a swift learner, though his grades rarely were above average. Granger always assumed it was because of his laziness, but Harry was not lazy. He had always worked diligently but the results were ordinary at the very least. Could he be doing this on purpose? So he wouldn't attract even more attention… Possibly. And he never cared for his own health and well-being, his pain tolerance was extraordinary. As if he was used to it so much, it was not worth noticing…

Hermione's eyes widened and she turned around to face the ginger boy, still sitting quietly on the couch.

"Ron!" she cried out. "Ron, Harry always told us how his relatives never liked him, right?"

"So?"

"So?! So what if they didn't just dislike him, what if they…" she trailed off to a whisper.

"Abused him?" came from the door to the library. Two heads instantly snapped in that direction.

"D-Draco?" mumbled Hermione. Ron just stared.

"What are you… How are you?" the girl corrected herself halfway. "Aren't you supposed to be taking Harry's treatment, whatever it is?"

The blond froze in the doorframe, looking apprehensive. "I'm… Yes, I'm… I'll just grab a book and be off. Sorry."

The silver duo stared at the other boy, gobsmacked. They never saw him behave that way and it felt weird and wrong somehow. Draco lingered near the door for another moment, dropped his gaze at the floor, and practically ran to the shelves. Truth be told, he went down here because he couldn't stand to be in the same room as Harry right now. Seeing what Potter saw now and knowing that he didn't just watch, but _felt_ it, _lived_ through it, made Malfoy sick and the blond had no wish to calmly sit in there and watch it all happening before his eyes. That's why he gathered all his courage and went to the library, hoping to find an interesting book and a quiet corner to try and read it.

But the feeling of two intent gazes following his every movement made Draco nervous and he decided that any book will do. The boy grabbed the biggest one within his reach and almost fled outside, but Hermione's voice stopped him.

"How did you know?"

The boy turned around and frowned. "Know what?"

"About Harry. That he… That he was…"

"He told me," mumbled Malfoy.

"LIAR!" Ron suddenly blew up jumping on his feet. "You're lying, you're worthless…"

"RON!"

Hermione stormed to the redhead and pushed him back on the couch, "Stop it!" she hissed angrily. "What the hell are you doing!"

Draco stood there rooted on the spot, wide-eyed. His vision blurred, breath short. "No, no, I just… I never…" he whispered.

A heavy hand squeezed his shoulder and the blond jumped.

Severus shot an apologetic look at his godson and turned to the silver duo. "What is going on here?" he asked sternly.

Hermione and Ron whirled around and faced the headmaster. "Sorry, sir," muttered Granger. "We didn't mean anything. Ron's just being a _jerk_ ," she hissed the last word directly at Weasley, who had the decency to look ashamed.

Snape smirked with amusement and turned to Draco. "Come with me," he commanded and walked out of the door with Malfoy closely behind.

"Wait, Draco!" Hermione called again and before she could think things through, followed the two Slytherins into the hall. "Draco," she said again. His name felt so weird…

The boy looked up at his godfather in a silent plea for help but stopped anyway and faced the girl with trepidation. Severus also stopped, placed a hand back on Malfoy's shoulder, showing him his support, and looked expectantly at Granger.

But now, when she got their attention, Hermione didn't know how to proceed. She couldn't outright ask Malfoy her question with Snape here, and couldn't just dismiss them or say anything dumb, it would be suspicious. Seconds ticked away, and with each one of them her eyes and mouth gradually widened, Draco's heart speed increased, and Snape's patience stretched. "How did it happen?" the girl finally asked, deciding to go straight but as cryptic as possible, hoping that Malfoy would understand and answer accordingly.

Draco shrugged, "I woke up one night because he was screaming bloody murder. I asked what his nightmare was about and he told me."

"Thank you," nodded Granger. "And sorry about Ron. He'll come around."

And she slid back into the library.

Snape and Malfoy stood silently in the hall, watching the closed door sadly.

"Draco, how often does that happen?"

"Nightmares?" he glanced at the man beside him. "I don't know, he never screams anymore. And I always take a potion before sleep, so…"

Severus nodded to himself and sighed. Then gestured toward the drawing-room.

— - ♦ - —

Later that night, Severus lay in his bed without a trace of sleep.

 _"Because it made me feel,"_ rang in his head. _"Because I can relate."_

What in Merlin's name that insolent brat thinks he is?! He can relate. Unbelievable! Anger rushed through the man but died as quickly as it started. He remembered the warmth and gratitude that he felt towards the mysterious 'friend' in the past. It was a nice feeling...having someone watching your back.

_"I woke up one night because he was screaming bloody murder."_

A familiar feeling indeed… He too more often than not woke up in the middle of the night because of his own screaming. And knowing that _he_ was the one who brought it up on the boy… _"No, I did no such thing,"_ Snape tried to convince himself. _"With life the brat lives, he was bound to have nightmares anyway."_ But it didn't quite work.

 _"Draco, why aren't you in bed?"  
_ _"No, please… I can't just sit there anymore and watch him! Please. And Harry said that I needed to stay close to you in case if…" he trailed off.  
_ _"If what?"  
_ _"If I have another panic attack."_

How could anyone possibly choose to do that on their own volition? Yes, of course, someone who was abused as a child never viewed pain the same way as someone with a normal childhood would, he himself was a living example, but still… After watching Draco flinch and shake with such despair and misery in his eyes for several hours, Severus came to the conclusion that Potter was completely mad.

Half an hour of tossing and turning later, Snape cursed under his breath, got up, and grabbed a vial of Sleeping draught from his desk. He needed to sleep.

The moonlight shone brightly through the window, leaving four white squares on the carpet. The professor walked to the window, opened it, and looked outside. Cool night air filled the lungs. Everything was calm. Clear sky proudly displayed myriads and myriads of stars. The street was empty and quiet, but this quiet — imbued with the warm yellowish light of a few lamps — felt nice and cleansing.

Severus sighed and sat on his bed, absentmindedly looking at the potion in his hand. Finally, his head was blissfully empty, but that meant only that there was nothing to distract him from uneasiness in his chest.

It was almost two in the morning when Severus finally gave up and went downstairs to check on the boys. He was sure that Potter knew exactly what he was doing, but somehow, apparently against his better judgment, he was unable to stop himself from thinking of the boy as a kid, who couldn't find his ass without a map and _Lumos_.

It did not make any sense. Facts screamed that Harry Potter clearly was a master when it came to manipulating himself and others, and a good one. Maybe even better than Dumbledore or the Dark Lord. The boy's little speech about anonymous selfless help and protection only confirmed that theory. Or maybe Severus simply was _that_ paranoid and saw plots at every turn just for the sake of seeing plots. _"Constant vigilance!"_ for god's sake…

Who could tell now…

The only thing Snape knew for sure was that now he will keep an even closer eye on Potter. On Harry.

The man stopped outside the boys' bedroom and listened. Everything was strangely quiet.

The door opened without a sound, and Severus picked inside. Draco slept on his bed, but far from peacefully. Severus had half a mind to wake him up and give a Dreamless sleep but remembered in time that he was not supposed to do that. The other bed was empty, and Snape wondered where the hell could Potter possibly go in the middle of the night.

The first impulse was to go find the stupid boy and drag him to his room, accompanying it all with quite a few good-chosen words. But the man caught himself immediately after closing the bedroom door. What was he thinking? He rubbed his face and turned to go upstairs, but didn't get very far. Who he was trying to deceive? Severus knew perfectly well that he would not be able to sleep until he knew for sure that everything was alright. Yes, maybe Potter was not his student anymore, and he was of age (sometimes he looked like he was at least twice Severus' age). And maybe Snape was a guest in this house, but he still felt responsible for both boys, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

Potter won't like it.

There was another option, of course — go to his bedroom and take a potion. But Sleeping draught would only trap him in his nightmares, which was not exactly preferable. Dreamless sleep proved to be highly addictive, and Severus won't ever repeat that mistake of his youth, thank you very much… So he always avoided that potion if it wasn't literally a life or death situation.

 _"If Potter wanted to be seen, he would not wait till this hour to leave the room,"_ Snape thought over and over again, creeping down to the basement. He felt like a brainless teenager sneaking out after curfew. Ridiculous! He was a grown man, holy Merlin's pants! A formidable and menacing dungeon bat, a greasy git everyone in their right mind was afraid of. And yet, he couldn't shake off the heavy feeling that something wasn't right. Probably that he's making a mistake and will soon regret it.

The lab was dark and empty. Severus made a few steps inside and stopped in his bubble of the dim light of a _Lumos_ , waiting for the room to light up as per usual, but nothing happened. He just stood there staring into the thick blackness and had an eerie feeling that it stared at him right back. A slight tickling on his nape sent a strong sense of urgency to the mind, and slowly backing away, Snape exited the room and closed the door a tad faster than normal. His heart racing in the ears, Severus quickly went toward the stairway, but each step made him more and more aware of a steady cold gaze on him, sending waves of icy goosebumps all over his back.

On the first floor, that sensation of primal terror that took him off-guard subsided a bit but didn't let go completely. That gaze was still on him but now it felt distant. It seemed that pure evil was trapped in the basement, and the professor wondered if it has something to do with a history of the noble and ancient house of Black. Who knows what they did down there. Anyway, as it became easier to breathe, Severus almost decided to send Potter to go screw himself, get on his floor, then in his nice bedroom, turn on the light, take all the Dreamless sleep he had on hand, and forget it all.

The moment that thought crossed his mind, though, Snape scolded himself for being such a baby and proceeded to the door on his right. The library was also empty but didn't feel so ominous because of a few windows between book stacks. Moonlight poured through them and the man instantly remembered the calm it brought him earlier. Sighing deeply, Severus occluded (now, that's a good thought) and moved forward to look between bookcases. But the second he made a step, he heard muffled sounds of something falling and someone cursing. Turning on the spot, Snape walked out and quietly proceeded to the kitchen.

Apparently, it was a good time for a snack.

The boy stood in the darkness beside the sink, in some sort of a trance washing something off of his left hand under the weak stream of water, paying no attention to the new audience. On the countertop to his right lay a cutting board with some fruits and vegetables, and an empty plate stood near. A knife lay about on the wooden floor, and a thin trace of dark drops followed from it to the sink.

Dread slowly spread in Severus' chest despite his occluding.

"Potter," the man said quietly, trying his best not to spook the boy.

No reaction.

Snape stepped closer.

"Harry."

The boy noticeably sighed. His hands were trembling.

"Harry, how can I help?" whispered Severus. For some reason, he did not dare to speak normally now. "Tell me what I can do."

As if in slow-motion, Potter lowered his head, placed both hands on the other side of the sink, and closed the eyes.

The tickling on Snape's nape returned, and the temperature in the room dropped several degrees, stretching its frosty tentacles all over the man's body, tying his guts in a knot.

Ignoring the sudden wave of panic, Severus tentatively reached Harry and placed a hand on his shoulder, hoping to pull him out of stupor. When he didn't flinch, the professor lightly tugged, trying to turn the boy around and face him.

BANG!

All of a sudden, Harry smashed a palm on the counter table with all his might and hissed loudly, making Snape jump back and yank his hand away. With wide eyes he watched as the boy clenched fists tightly and leaned his forehead on them, panting.

Half a minute later, the man's heartbeat became almost normal, and he tried one more time, "Harry."

Again, no reaction.

"Harry, look at me."

Heavy seconds ticked by, accompanied by the stream of water crashing onto the metal sink and a loud ringing in the ears. Severus started to regret his actions again the moment the previous tickling became large goosebumps, and the sensation of someone's gaze upon him returned with double force. But he couldn't just leave now.

In the same slow-mo manner, Potter rose to his full height, opened the eyes, lifted his head, placed his left hand on the right side of the sink, and turned around.

Severus' heart smashed on the floor.

Two black abysses full of pure naked agony and despair stared at him. Unable to move a muscle, the man stood rooted on the spot, caught in a living nightmare.

Harry did not blink, not leaving Snape's eyes for a moment. Then he inhaled and whispered, "Go."

Nothing.

The boy tilted his head to the right a fraction and his face twisted with anguish.

"GO!" he roared.

Knocked away by the wave of power of soul-splitting cry of agony, coming from everywhere at once, endlessly echoing in his mind, Severus unfroze, and with a pounding heart ran upstairs, leaving the horror of the night behind.

By the time he reached his room, Snape did not have the strength to even properly scold stupid fucking Harry bloody Potter, he just wanted to get in bed and turn off his mind for as long as possible. He found the biggest dose of Dreamless sleep and literally fell on the covers, only then noticing a large vial of deep blue potion and a note written in familiar mechanic script on his pillow.

_\  
\ Sorry.  
\   
_ _\ P.S.: Non-addictive Dreamless sleep.  
\ Approximately 1 gulp for 4 hours.  
\   
_

Without hesitation, Severus put away the standard Dreamless sleep, uncorked Potter's variation, took two gulps, closed it back, and instantly fell asleep.

— - ♦ - —

The next few days went by in peace. Everyone, including Severus, was busy with their own things. Grangers and Weasleys mostly spent their time in the library, Snape and Malfoy — on the third floor, where Snape's bedroom and lab were located. The man worked or brewed something, while Draco simply sat nearby, reading. Or at least trying to read.

Suffice it to say, Severus never left his bedroom after nine.

He didn't tell anyone, but simply because he didn't want to even think about that night, let alone talk. Of course, the man went to the basement the next day to check what the hell was that thing, but everything was as usual. Even light turned on when he opened the door. Severus still shivered uncomfortably at the sight, though… He remembered all too well that cold terror and the gaze that stared as if from beyond the grave right through his soul.

For the first time in his life, Snape did not want to know.

On Thursday afternoon, the man walked out of the drawing-room where he had a long fire-call with Minerva regarding some school business and followed straight to the first floor, looking for Draco.

The blond sat on his bed still as a statue and looked at Harry with unbearable sadness and guilt written on his face. Potter lay on his stomach, face down. His right fist white-knuckled tightly clasped the hair on the back of his head. His left fist lay stiffly beside him but at the moment Snape came in, something particularly painful must've happened and Harry loudly smashed it onto the pillow, making the other two jump. And then everything went deadly silent again.

Unconsciously Severus moved towards the Golden boy, but Draco stopped him. "No!" he whispered urgently. "Harry asked to disturb him only if it is an emergency," explained the blond.

"Very well," replied Snape and after a moment of consideration, sat down on the edge of Malfoy's bed. "How are you doing?"

Draco ignored the question.

"Do you think he can hear us?" Something undetectable sparked in Malfoy's eyes but died immediately after he heard a response.

"I don't know."

"But you are legilimens!" exclaimed the blond as quiet as he could. "Aren't you suppose to know that stuff?"

Severus raised a typical eyebrow at the annoying teen but decided not to worsen the already dire situation.

"For your information, Draco, what Harry is doing is far beyond the level of any legilimens." The boy's shoulders sank.

"Draco, " added Snape, clutching the boy's forearm and looking him straight in the eyes. "How are you feeling? Is the treatment working?"

Malfoy thought for several moments. Yes, the treatment was working, that's for sure, but it didn't mean that everything was better now. Because it definitely wasn't. Not once in his entire life, Draco felt so guilty. It was bad enough that he went through all those terrors, now he made the only person who helped him go through the exact same thing on his behalf.

"I don't know. I mean, it's working, of course, it is. It just…" he stopped. "Look what it did to Harry! I'm an awful person for making him go through this. I will totally understand if he will never speak to me again afterward."

With every passing moment, the situation became more and more surreal. Yes, Severus knew how attached Draco was these days to Potter, but only now the actual depth of it hit the man. Just think of it… Draco Malfoy fears that Harry bloody Potter won't talk to him again. When did the world go crazy and why has no one bothered to tell _him_ about it?

"Professor?" asked Draco when Snape seemingly got lost in his mind and forgot about their conversation. "Severus?"

The man dove out of his thoughts. "My apologies, I...um...never mind."

He sighed.

"Draco, I'm sure, Harry will not turn his back on you. It was his idea, after all. He knew what he signed up for, " Severus said, trying to sound as confident as he possibly could. But seeing doubts on Malfoy's face, he continued, "Of course, if it matters that much, you can always ask him to stop and deal with everything on your own. I'm sure Harry will understand." Images of Potter, broken and scared, that hunted Severus these days danced before his eyes.

Draco shifted on his seat. "You think I can do that? I mean, deal with everything on my own."

"Eventually, yes. Everybody does. But before you make a rash decision, think of all possibilities and consequences. Weight out all your options, because unlike the rest of us, you actually _have_ a choice in the matter. And don't look at me like that. You've no idea how much it pains me to see someone, even Potter, like this, and if it were me, I wouldn't agree to any of it in the first place, but it's not about me. I know myself, Draco, I know my strength and my limits, and I'm one hundred percent sure that Potter knows his as well. The question is whether you know yours. Truly know. Because when you stop the treatment and Harry will remove all shields he put in your mind to hold off the memories, you will find yourself back in that basement. Alone against your worst demons. How many chances are there that you'll win the battle?"

Now, if put he it that way… It was still wrong.

"You're right. Of course, you are. I'm weak, but surely not _that_ weak…" Draco sighed. "Still, I will most likely go nuts if I shut everything down. But if I won't, how can I live with myself, knowing what I did to my only real friend? I can't… I can't, Severus."

Snape looked intently at his godson for a moment. "You've changed so much, Draco," he said.

"Well… I had a great opportunity to reconsider things."

"That you had," mumbled Severus. _"It would be a pity if you'll lose your new insight though, even for a noble cause…"_

"Maybe you should wake Potter up and discuss your doubts with him," offered the professor.

"I'm awake," sighed Harry, turning around. "Just tried to ignore your blabbing, but it's simply impossible…" He sat up on the bed and glanced at the other shocked occupants of the room.

"Sorry," muttered Draco.

Harry's irritation subsided when he noticed the boy's current state.

"Don't worry about it."

Malfoy nodded.

"Listen, Draco, Professor's right. I know exactly what I'm doing. And it's not as bad as you think. Sure, I experience everything as you remember it, but I have ways to deal with such crap. I am in charge of all my feelings and emotions, not the other way around. You know what was happening in your memories just a moment ago, and yet, here I am, sitting here, talking calmly to you, right? Look at me, Draco. I can see shadows in your eyes, but can you see them in mine?"

Severus watched the two teens staring at each other. Was it really that easy? He himself was good at stuffing emotions away, but Snape could bet on all he had that it was everything _but_ easy. Especially at the beginning. Potter was certainly not 'at the beginning', but still… It was hard to suddenly start seeing him that way after all these years.

Harry stood, walked to Malfoy, and sat beside him. "Do you trust me?" he asked the blond.

Draco glanced at Potter briefly.

"Look, I said at the beginning that it will be hard, did I not?"

The other boy nodded.

"And I need you to be strong. You _are_ strong. We've made it this far because you are. Don't give up now."

Harry looked searchingly at his charge, waiting for an answer. Draco was still for nearly a full minute, mulling it all over in his head. Finally, he took a deep breath and agreed.

"Good. Now, while I have a little break, I'd like to speak to you, professor," said Potter, turning his attention on the quiet man. Snape quirked an eyebrow but nodded.

"How about I have a quick snack while we talk? I'm famished."

"Lead the way, Mr. Potter."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the end, guys!  
> Things are moving a bit slow, I know… But they are moving, so it's something, right? :)  
> One of the reasons is my feeble attempt to translate 'Mirror' into Russian, I guess...  
> https://ficbook.net/readfic/8415600  
> I'll just leave it here in case someone's interested.
> 
> Please, do not hesitate to leave a review! Your thoughts are very important to me.  
> I need some feedback. I really do.


	14. Something new

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war is over, but not all enemies are defeated. Strange things start to happen around Harry and those who are close to him, and once again he must step forward to fight.
> 
> Who are they? What do they want? Why are they doing this? Many questions, but no answers.
> 
> Super!Potter. Snape's alive. Abuse. Post-canon.
> 
> There's a side-story for this fic. It is called 'Mirror: the war', and it's about Harry's school years. A background of sorts :)  
> I work on them both at the same time. Be so kind and check it out if you're interested! :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains a description of violence.

## Something new

_**Somewhere in Telford** _

"John! Hey, man! How've you been?" a tall man in his mid-fifties beamed through the thick blond mustache when he saw his old friend across the narrow street. Late afternoon sun reflected in his small sly eyes.

"Dug! Long time no see! I'm good, how are you? Still working in this hole, eh," John almost ran to his friend who stood in the shadow near the entrance to the small local bank and gave him a one-armed hug, making Dug bend forward awkwardly.

"Yeah, have to. Not everyone's meant to be big scary scientists and ran away to a bright and shiny future full of money, beautiful women, and booze, you know. Some fellows have to stay here and do small things, like keeping an eye on this bank," Dug scolded good-naturally, not even bothering to hide a huge grin.

"Yeah, yeah, okay," John smiled back. "How are Monica and your brood?"

"Fine, fine," Dug waved. "Lizzy's looking forward to running away to college already. Hah, can't wait to leave her old folks. Ben made it into a team this year. He and Billy are playing together now. I've always known he's gonna make it! And my youngest — Sophy — she's the best in her year! can you imagine?" the man chatted proudly. "Have you met her yet? You should come to dinner today! Monica will be happy to see you."

"I need to finish some business first, and then I'm all yours," John replied, still smiling.

Dug turned away and nodded to a customer leaving the bank. "Good day to you too, ma'am," he saluted to her mockingly. "Tell Bob I said hi!"

"So, what's so important that led you to our ol…" _BAM!_

…wafted from somewhere around the corner. Dug momentarily tensed and turned toward the sound.

"Wait here," he threw across his shoulder as he moved to see what's going on.

John did as he was told and stood near the entrance, watching the corner where his friend disappeared, not even blinking. No one went in or out. But as seconds ticked by, the man started to worry. As far as he remembered, there was absolutely nothing down there, not even a single trash bin. What could possibly happen?

After two full minutes, John couldn't take it anymore and slowly made his way to what he knew was a dead-end.

"Dug?" he asked cautiously, turning around the corner. "What the…"

The light wind played with a wrapping of some candy on the ground. The entire three walls were now covered in ugly graffiti John hasn't seen before. But aside from that…

The place was empty.

— - ♦ - —

_**The same day, headquarters** _

"I wanted to apologize to you," Harry said when both men were seated at the table in the blasted kitchen.

"Whatever for?" Severus asked, innocently raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, drop the act, professor…"

Potter suddenly remembered the reason he came down here and moved toward the fridge hoping to find something to eat that did not require spending time bending over the stove. Not that he didn't trust Kreacher's ability to cook, mind you…he just found the process extremely soothing.

"You know very well what I'm talking about."

Severus shifted on his seat and sighed. He looked uncomfortable. "I have no need for apologies, Mr. Potter."

"Well...that is because you did not see your face that night," Harry whispered under his breath. After a fruitless search, he gave up and set to make himself a few sandwiches and tea.

For a few minutes, Severus simply observed the disheveled figure of a boy in an old T-shirt and shorts. He looked worse for wear and moved slowly as if deliberately trying to save as much energy as possible. Pathetic really.

"What was that thing?" the man asked eventually when it became apparent that Harry was not going to talk.

Potter kept silent for another minute. He then sat back at the table, filled two cups with tea, pushed one toward Severus, and made a sip from another.

"It was not a 'thing', it was me. My magic," Harry explained finally, not looking at Snape. "You see, this place belonged to a wizarding family for so many years, it became magical itself. When I inherited the house, its magic bound itself to me. Just like the magic of Hogwarts is bound to its headmaster," he glanced at Severus who nodded in understanding. "At first I was simply interacting with the house occasionally but when McGonagall brought _ickle Diddykins_ here…well…" they both smirked sadly, and Snape felt a pang of guilt again. "Let's just say that I was not in a good mood. So it's not so hard to imagine that my tolerance of that bloody screaming bitch reduced considerably. I could not remove the sticking charm as it was permanent, so I simply removed Blacks' magic from the house, efficiently ending all spells ever placed around here by that ancient and noble family of prats, and then filled the house with my own magic instead."

"But…" started Severus, slightly confused. "Fidelius?.."

"It was placed by Dumbledore, not Black."

Harry paused enough to finish a sandwich and fill the cup with tea again. Severus held his cup but did not drink, seemingly lost in thought or just waiting.

"Call me paranoid, but I needed the place to be a fortress. I needed to feel safe here, and I needed Draco to feel safe here. When I tried to rescue the boy from that god-awful place, I knew I encountered a force considerably greater than just that of three crazy Death Eaters. There was magic far beyond their level. Far beyond Riddle's level. Whoever bewitched them is not to be messing with."

Severus swallowed.

"That is why I made it so I have absolute control over the house. My magic is literally inside every brick, every surface, every object here. I can feel and control every inch. I know where everyone is and what they're doing, if they're using magic, of course," Harry paused again. "The day I started Draco's treatment…" he sighed. "It was… It was trying. I knew it would be bad but I didn't expect it to be quite so bad. I mean, I guess my own feelings dulled over the years. I remember some things, but…"

Harry stared into space in front of him, dropping his voice with every passing second. But suddenly he broke out of his daze and inhaled.

"Anyway, Draco thankfully did not reach that level of impassiveness yet, and I basically doomed myself to relieve everything he did the way he remembers. And the boy's memories are fresh and sharp."

Severus frowned. "This is the second time when you called Draco 'the boy'. You realize that you are the same age, aren't you?" This is too strange.

"Uum…" Harry mirrored Snape's scowl. He really should pay more attention to his words. He wasn't sure if he was ready to divulge this particular part of his past. Why not, though? "No… Not even close. Um, so…" Harry quickly continued his tale before Severus got the chance to wrap his mind around that piece of information. "As I said, that first day was terrible. I managed to keep it together till the night. I checked that everyone was asleep. I almost went to your bedroom to feed you some sleeping potion myself, so long it took you to finally calm down," he chuckled and shook his head in amusement. "I waited about a half-hour after you supposedly fell asleep and went down to the kitchen because I was starving, but I didn't pause Draco's memories. To make things a bit easier to process, I stopped controlling the house though, letting my magic roam free, so to speak. Therefore I had no way of knowing that you decided to take a stroll in the dead of night," Harry looked into Severus' eyes.

"What you felt was Draco's horror, echoed around the house because of my connection to it."

Snape's heart sank.

Harry sighed. "I'm sorry, Severus. I didn't mean to cause you any… discomfort, shall we say. Know that while I'm breathing, nothing bad will ever happen to any of you. You do not need to worry about it."

Snape knew why Potter told him that little story. And what he meant by that last statement. Of course, he'd know how terrified Severus was, he saw it himself. And of course, he'll protect them all, if the steel in the Golden boy's eyes, while he spoke, was any indication. The familiar warmth flooded the man. He felt like he was four again and in the safest place possible — his mother's embrace when she held him tightly and whispered that everything will be great.

Nothing was great, of course.

But Potter's promise of protection made Severus feel safer than he ever had. Even more, somehow the idea of being under the boy's wing, so to speak, did not raise discomfort or shame in his soul anymore. He could at least admit that much to himself. It was amazing how quickly things changed.

"Oh, Harry! I thought you were…" Snape's eyes snapped up to Hermione who just entered the kitchen. "Good afternoon, Professor," she said when she noticed him. Severus only nodded in response.

"How are you, Harry? You look dreadful."

"Gee, thanks…" he got up and started heading to the door. "I'm sorry, Hermione, but I'm afraid I've reached my quota for chitchat for today."

"Yes, of course. I just…" she stopped, looking at her friend.

"Well?"

"It's my parents. They wanted to leave but Professor Snape told me that…"

"It's no problem. They can leave any time they want," Harry interrupted.

Hermione stared at him. "Okay then. Should I tell you so you could lift up the wards?"

"No, it's not necessary. I'll know anyway."

And with a nod to both Hermione and Severus, Harry exited the kitchen.

— - ♦ - —

_**Sunday, a week and a half later** _

Severus sat on the couch in the library, reading one of the books on meditation Potter had given him earlier. There wasn't much point to it though, because the information wasn't exactly new. More so, it was exceedingly obvious and completely pointless most of the time, which annoyed Snape to no end. But he stubbornly kept reading anyway.

Because it's been days since Potter ventured out to his new room on the top floor and from that moment on no one has seen him once. And it made Snape nervous.

Every day Draco was getting better and better, lighter and less depressed, and at the same time, Harry became less animatic, more slow and unfocused, until one time he simply vanished from his bed, leaving a small note behind telling that he's upstairs and to be left alone. Severus was not sure if it was the right course of action but decided it was not wise to argue with the boy in that state. Not to mention, the whole floor was out of reach now, and everyone who tried to get up there ultimately found themselves in various parts of the house, starting with the basement ending with closets and bathrooms. The Weasley-boy actually got kicked outside a few times (but within the wards, of course) before the message sank in and he finally stopped trying.

Severus only hoped that when this was all over, they won't find stupid Potter hanging from the ceiling up there.

Where did this come from? Of course, he would do nothing of the sort. If he survived seventeen years of personal real-life hell, surely he's able to put up with someone's memories.

 _"When exactly did you start caring so bloody much?.."_ Severus thought, shaking himself out of this highly depressing mood and making himself pay attention to the book. This was the whole purpose of opening that trash in the first place. To provide a distraction.

He heard the door opening and someone stepping inside but not moving further.

Everything was quiet for five long seconds. "Do not just stand there, it's annoying," the man said softly, not tearing his gaze from the page to find out which teenager it was.

"Sorry," a girl's voice whispered, and Severus looked up at Hermione, as she moved to the bookshelves. "Strange…" he said.

"What's so strange, professor?"

Snape did not respond until the girl reappeared with a thick book in her hands.

"Strange, Miss Granger, is that I would've not mistaken you for a type who has a habit of hovering indecisively at the door," smirked Snape looking at the slight blush of Hermione's cheeks. This might prove to be fun. "You are not afraid of me, are you?" he put the book down on the table and leaned forward, feigning concern.

Hermione immediately lifted her head and crossed arms, hugging the book on herbs to her chest. "Of course, I'm not!" she snapped indignantly much to Severus' amusement. "Why would I be afraid of you, sir?"

"I can easily name a few reasons," the professor purred, smirking. "Care to listen? No? Pity."

Her gaze got caught in his. Granger swallowed and blushed even more. Severus relaxed, leaned back on the couch, and crossed his legs without breaking eye contact. Silly girl and her silly too-Gryffindorish acts.

"Would you like to join me then?" he gestured toward the opposite couch. "Please, take a seat, Miss Granger."

His voice was quiet and not really commanding, but something in undertones told Hermione that just dismissing the request would be a mistake. She saw that he was definitely making fun of her. Of course, she did. But even if she wasn't afraid of the Great Dungeon Bat that much these days, he still made her wary and nervous. On guard. A reflex developed over many years. This man is not to be argued with...Hermione knew that with all her being. So gathering all pride and bravery she could summon, Granger proceeded to the couch and stiffly sat on the edge, wondering what that man could possibly want from the insufferable know-it-all.

"Tea?" he asked.

"No, thank you," replied Hermione shaking her head.

Snape glanced at the book Granger practically glued to herself. "What are you reading?"

She widened her eyes for a brief moment and dropped them to her chest as if the girl actually forgot she was holding a book. Dunderhead.

"Um… I… It's just some text on herbs, professor," she said after a pause.

"Is it? Are you planning to tie your future with herbology? Or medicine, perhaps? Wouldn't be surprised if you did."

Hermione's astonishment at the question was written all over her face, but the girl quickly blanked her expression. Well, at least attempted to. It was not that easy to deceive Severus Snape.

"I'm still thinking about it, sir."

Severus waited for the elaboration, but Granger just sat there looking at him. Snape smirked inwardly. He indeed trained her well over the years. "What options do you consider?"

"Hmm… Well. Medicine, as you said. And I thought about working in the ministry, in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement if I'm lucky. Or maybe becoming an Auror with Harry, though I'm not sure it's mine. And I'm not sure Harry would even want it either, I mean he's so different…" she trailed off, suddenly realizing what she started blabbing.

Severus ignored that, though, and debated with himself if he should articulate his thoughts on the subject, not sure the girl would want his advice. But he needed to work on gaining his students' trust, and this was a good opportunity to start. If he won Granger now, she will ultimately help him weasel his way into good graces of the rest members of Potter's inner circle, which would eventually help him at least soften the others. So he put all entertainment aside and bored a serious gaze at the Gryffindor in front of him.

"The ministry is a giant scrapyard, Miss Granger. Especially now. I assume you think that doing nothing about it won't help matters. You're right. But you need to consider a fairly important issue first: the ministry is _people_ , and _people are fools_. Therefore, no matter what you do inside that appendix of our society, no matter how much you flex and twist things, I'm afraid, they will inevitably find their way back into chaos sooner rather than later. There's little point in spending your life fighting losing battles. If you really want to change lives, may I suggest you start from the other side? Start small, Miss Granger. Start with people, not with laws. You have the power now, use it wisely."

Hermione found her jaw dropped and quickly snapped it shut. Did he really just say what she heard?... Professor Snape, giving valuable advice without sneering or insulting all the way, was something new.

What he told her made perfect sense, though, and Hermione instantly started to process new information. Why hadn't she thought about it earlier? Of course, with the state of things that Voldemort left after himself…

Severus watched with amusement the impact of his words on the girl. Shock, at first. Undoubtedly from the realization that he _was_ capable of having polite conversations, after all. And then, when the actual meaning of his words reached her mind, Snape could literally see the whiles spinning inside that enormous brain of hers. He never thought he'd live till the day when the sight of it wouldn't irritate him. Interesting… "Khm…"

"Oh!" Granger jerked away from her musings. "I'm sorry, professor, I just… I was thinking about what you said."

"Yes, I gathered this much. May I ask what you were thinking?"

"Merely that you were right, sir," she shrugged.

"I see. Well, it is a good thing that you have another year to make the decision. A lot of time to think things through," he nodded.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Thoughts about the upcoming school year and the amount of work to be done in preparation for it filled Severus with dread, and he absentmindedly rubbed his face. Nervous tension and worries of the last weeks had their toll on the man. Even if he wasn't actually doing anything, he still was tired. _So fucking tired._

"Um… Professor?"

 _"Shit…"_ he completely forgot about Granger.

"Are you alright, sir?" she asked. Hermione never saw her professor act like an actual human being before, and what he displayed now must mean only one thing — that he was exhausted beyond belief. Somehow it made her even more nervous.

Snape sat upright and sighed. "I'm fine, Miss Granger."

"You look tired," she risked.

"That's probably because I am."

They fell silent again. Severus picked up Potter's book and opened it at a random page.

"Are you glad to be going back to Hogwarts, sir?" Hermione asked. She suddenly found herself liking their decent conversation and didn't want Snape to shut down again. But as soon as she opened her mouth, she regretted acting so hastily and automatically braced herself for the inevitable reprimand.

Severus shot a surprising look at the frightened girl. _In for a penny…_ Or not.

"Sorry, sir. I didn't mean to pry…"

"Partly," he said after a long moment, ignoring the apology. Granger relaxed a bit. "It will be a tough year."

"Can imagine…"

"Hardly, I'm afraid," Severus said quietly, raising both eyebrows.

"But… Harry said… And you were acquitted," Hermione mumbled, confused. "I'm sure, everyone will…"

" _Everyone_ ," interrupted Snape, dangerous spark dancing in his eyes, "will not change their opinion and expectations of me just because Wizengamot _or even precious Potter_ said so, Miss Granger. You yourself are a bright enough example."

"M-me?.." Hermione hated her betraying voice.

"You."

"But I…"

"You may say that you are not afraid of me as much as you want, Miss Granger, but your expressions and body language are screaming otherwise," he leaned forward and dropped his voice. "You wouldn't even _be_ here right now if it wasn't for your instincts demanding you to do as I am telling you because years in my classroom have taught you that I'm not to be crossed. Despite all your bravery, and even after you realized that I'm not going to lash out, you are still sitting at the edge of the couch, ready to jump and run away any second. You're still gripping it for dear life. You look at me, but not in the eyes. You answer _my_ questions honestly enough but divulge only things you dim 'safe' for me to know. You ask _your_ s, but only after thinking twice through all possible outcomes, weighing pros and cons, carefully choosing every word," and then he added sadly, "I'm not that big of a monster, girl. And you are close enough to Potter to know that he does not see me that way. But despite your claims to trust his judgment, you are not able to act likewise around me. _Because the fear that was installed in you since you were a child is not that easy to overcome_ , Miss Granger."

He just blew up all chances for the girl's trust. _"Great, Severus… Well done, you imbecile."_

"Well, Harry seemed to overcome it quite easily," she pointed out after a minute when her heart stopped racing.

"Harry never feared me, Miss Granger," Severus smirked at the girl's gobsmacked look on the face. "That I can tell you for sure."

Hermione didn't know what to say to that. Yes. Yes, he was right. She _was_ terrified of him. But still, Snape didn't seem to accuse her in anything...he really was different from how everyone used to think of the man. And Harry… Who her friend really was? Why did he change his personality that much? Was it really necessary? So many questions… Harry was in for an exceptionally long and serious conversation.

She was so caught up in her musings that she didn't notice Draco Malfoy who practically flew in the room.

"It's almost over!" he exclaimed, beaming tiredly. "It's the last hours!"

— - ♦ - —

Harry lay on his back looking at the ceiling but not seeing it, a stream of images any horror movie would be jealous about never-ending before his eyes.

_"Merlin, please, let me die… I beg you, just let me die," echoed in my mind over and over again. Non-stop. For hours. Or days. How much time had passed?_

_I feel nothing but pain. Everywhere._

_And exhaustion. I just want to close my eyes. Just for a minute… Please._

_But I can't. They spelled my eyes to burn every time I close them. I managed to blink as seldom as possible, but it's still painful._

_I taught myself to shut my mind and not notice what they're doing. Not notice their snarky comments. Their laughter._

_HOLY FUCKING SHIT!_

_Pain flared somewhere inside me yet again, and a quiet whimper escaped my mouth._

_If it wasn't for the fact that they made me_ look _at their ministrations, I probably wouldn't even notice that the absence of my last fingernail on a toe was the reason for it._

_Not that I care anymore._

_I used to. Used to dream that somebody would… NO. Stop it. Stop right there, you worthless fuckwit._

Harry escaped in this room days ago. Not because he couldn't manage with all those people around. He just wanted peace.

Harry was so exhausted, he did not have the strength to lift his head from the pillow. He only hoped that everything would be over soon. Preferably before he passed out.

But pain helped matters. Helped to hold onto the edges of consciousness. Not that he had much choice… Harry was able to separate himself from Draco, of course. He saw and felt everything from the blond's point of view, but at the same time was acutely aware that all that he saw and felt was not really his. It gave Potter the opportunity to process the events and move forward almost instantly. Only if the pain would go away that easily…

But as it turned out, this was the greatest flaw of this miraculous method.

Harry used to take MPR at first to help with it.

Not anymore.

_"Crucio!" hissed one of them, and every nerve in my body flared in agony._

_They burned._

_And burned._

_AND BURNED._

AND BURNED!

_Till everything almost went black. But it didn't. Fuck._

_COULD SOMEBODY JUST KILL ME! Please._

_Slowly I came back to my senses. Blinding pain. A warm pool of something sticky and stinky underneath. And quiet. Alarmingly quiet. Have I gone deaf? I could still see, though… Not good. I'd prefer not to. Dark ceiling with too-familiar patterns of old paint hung above me. I spent a whole lifetime studying those patterns._

_A vicious slap across the face snapped my attention to the figure looming over me. Its lips were moving._

_So I have gone deaf._

_I tried to tell that, but my throat felt like a desert. They gave me water once in a while, but apparently screaming did not make things better._

_A sudden downpour of kicks from everywhere almost knocked me out cold again. But not quite. I tried to curl into a ball, but couldn't. Every movement caused even more pain (if it was even possible)._

_Merlin. I can't breathe._

Harry was panting like a fish on the sand. _Crucio_ was a favorite curse of those mad but dumb Messrs 'Imagination'. They used it so often, Harry wondered how Draco managed to stay sane. Potter was subjected to it only one time in the past — in the graveyard by his highness Moldypants himself. Admittedly, the most painful moment in his life. Well, at least it was like that before the cursed fire incident in Cokeworth. But now, after two weeks of being repeatedly held under the Cruciatus curse (although not as powerful as Tom's was) Harry rightfully considered himself a pro at ignoring it completely.

That night in the kitchen with Snape, he reacted pretty badly. Now — not even a flinch. Harry was secretly proud of himself for the ability to withstand pain. To act normally despite it.

But when all hell broke loose, Potter lost it just for a fraction of a second, which was enough time for — how many was it? Oh, five, it seems — Draco's broken ribs to effectively cut off the air.

Thankfully, those morans stopped their fun pretty quickly afterward and healed the boy’s crushed bones, definitely so they would be able to repeat the experience later.

And then Lucius threw a _stupefy_ at his once-loved son with such force, that Draco immediately lost consciousness.

Harry fell into deeply troubled sleep for a few hours right away, unconsciously pausing the memories.

_"AAAAAAAA-AAAA-AAAAAAAAaaaAAAAAAA!!!" I woke up abruptly, screaming my head off because someone seemed to be boiling me in a giant cauldron._

_When the pain stopped for a few moments, I blinked, slowly realizing where am I and why. Strange, my eyelids did not burn anymore. It must’ve become boring._

_When the figure caught me looking, it momentarily became livid._

_“What are you staring at, you worthless pile of shit?!” it hissed bending over me. “I will show you your true place, boy!”_

_A shiver ran through me, which was not a welcome feeling in this state._

_After a few more Crucio, the figure pointed its wand at me, and I felt my flesh slowly being sliced open. First on my right cheek, then on my left. When it tore open my forehead, blood streamed down to my eyes, making everything that much worse._

_I never ceased screaming._

_Maybe I plead to stop, can’t be sure._

_Done with the face, the figure moved on to my arm. Don’t know, which one, they burned all the same. That, if I still_ had _both arms…_

_“Crucio.”_

_Said a cold voice._

_It lasted ages._

_And then, when the figure went out of my cage and with a loud shriek fell on the floor, I saw him._

_Harry Potter._

Harry watched himself talking to the blond, felt Draco’s confusion and disbelief. But he did not care anymore.

That was it.

An enormous wave of relief washed over him. Drowned him.

That was it…

It’s just a few hours of their trip here left, the majority of which Draco was unconscious.

He did it. He really, truly DID IT.

Harry closed his eyes and laughed.

"Kreacher," he called when calmed down. The elf immediately popped into existence. "Kreacher, bring me my Dreamless sleep, please." The elf nodded silently and made the required delivery.

A few hours later Harry took three large gulps of his special potion, finally switching the world off.

On the ground floor beneath him, Draco Malfoy grinned happily and burst into loud sobs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny fact… Everything that happened 'a week and a half later' happened on June 7th (today), only 22 years ago.  
> Yes, I keep track of days.  
> No, it's not as stupid as you just thought :D
> 
> So, what do you think? Please, be so kind and leave a review!


	15. Eighteen

# Eighteen

The next morning was beautiful.

It was the most beautiful morning Harry could possibly remember.

He woke up late and stretched on the bed, for the first time in weeks not finding even the slightest ache in his body. _Merlin_ , what an amazing feeling!..

Harry sat up and glanced around the room. It was empty, except for the bed, but surprisingly light and airy. He liked it. For some unexplainable reason, it felt right. Maybe Harry should stay here. Yes, he definitely should.

Potter cast a _Tempus_ to check the time. Five past eleven. Where is his wand? Oh, screw that, doesn't matter.

He stood up and went to the bathroom. He should rearrange the whole floor and move the bloody thing next to his new room, so he didn't have to walk through the hall to get there. And maybe also adjoin two other rooms together to make a big study. Right, he'll do that tomorrow. He had better things waiting in line for now.

Harry looked at himself in the mirror: too thin for his liking, but it was not astounding after two weeks of basically half-starving; hair in its usual state; dark circles are almost gone. And a smile. A huge grin plastered all across his face. Not bad.

Harry cleaned his teeth and turned on the shower. Today will be great.

Fifteen minutes later Potter silently made his way downstairs. He was famished.

The kitchen was occupied, though. Harry stopped in a doorway and for a few moments simply observed a quiet conversation on the far end of the table between Draco and his godfather who was writing something on a piece of parchment. For the first time in Harry's memory, Severus did not wear his black robes, choosing instead a simple white long-sleeve shirt and black trousers. _"Hah, nice. Very nice, professor."_ They didn't seem to notice him. Harry felt like he was an intruder of some private family matter and wanted to announce his presence but at that moment Snape lifted his gaze to look at his godson and saw him. More like stared, actually.

Harry grinned.

"So, how are you both doing?" he asked, walking in.

Draco immediately jumped up and turned to face Potter. He couldn't help but smile back. "Good. We're good."

For a few moments, they all just watched each other. Severus rose from his chair. "It is good to see you back, Mr. Potter," he murmured. And it really was.

Harry nodded in acknowledgment, then opened the fridge and grabbed milk and eggs. "Somebody's up for pancakes?" he asked.

"Me!" exclaimed a voice from the hall.

"Ronald...we just ate an hour ago!" laughed Hermione, walking into the room beside the redhead.

"And? It's pancakes!"

"We received your message, Harry," Ginny hugged her boyfriend tightly from behind while he cooked. "Oh, it's so good to see you…" she whispered in his ear. Harry kissed her in the cheek lightly.

"Message?" asked Draco.

"Yes, we were in the drawing-room," explained Hermione as the three of them seated themselves at the table, "and suddenly a small note appeared telling us to go here."

"Oh… You did that? When?" Malfoy turned to Potter.

"Yep, just before they came in," replied Harry, not stopping the stirring.

"Not bad."

"Hah, you've no idea."

The small talk and laugh erupted around the table, while Harry cooked and Hermione made tea. Even Snape occasionally commented on some things. Draco sat silently and watched the encounter. After some time, Harry placed a full plate in front of his friends and looked at all of them.

Sun shone brightly through the opened windows lightening the room up, leaving odd all-shaped figures of yellow heat on all of them. Fresh summer air filled the lungs with easiness Harry didn't remember himself feeling, ever.

It was like there wasn't a care in the world. Like the war was truly over.

His chest ached with happiness. He needed to share it. Now.

"So, Draco, it's June 8th, right? I missed your birthday."

Everyone felt silent.

"Um…" the blond didn't know what to say.

"Congratulations," Harry smiled. "Eighteen, ha. I say we should celebrate. How about a nice day out? We were bottled up here for long enough. What do you think?" he looked around the room.

Three other Gryffindors immediately brightened up with excitement.

"We could go to the Diagon alley and hang out with George," proposed Ron, and Ginny nodded.

"No, sorry, I'd prefer to stick to the muggle world for now…" said Harry. "I bet Skeeter and her bloody quill are somewhere nearby," he shuddered.

"Potter, a word, if I may…" Snape motioned to the exit, and they both went out to the hall, closing the door behind and casting silencing charms for good measure.

"Are you sure this is a good idea? I remember quite vividly your little lecture about the danger of walking around unprotected. And none of them," he looked pointedly toward the kitchen, "even know about our new threat."

Harry inhaled. "Yes, and I'd rather it stays that way if you don't mind. Severus, don't worry, we won't go out there without protection. I've thought it over. We'll be inside the same anti-magical ward as we have here, only smaller. Like a bubble or a dome of some sort. Not a soul would know that we went anywhere in the first place, let alone would be able to track us down. I bet they," he also pointed with his thumb to the kitchen door behind, "won't even notice the ward. We'll be in the muggle world, and will always keep it to public places, so none of us would be able to use magic anyways. And no one there knows our faces. It would be just an unhappy man walking a bunch of squealing teenagers."

Snape smirked at that image and mulled the information over for a moment.

"Have you done this before?" he asked.

"Um, no. But I'm doing it now," Harry grinned cheekily.

"Are you?" Snape inquired in his usual manner. "So if I am to attack you…"

"…if you are to attack me physically, be prepared that your spell will bounce back with double force."

Snape looked doubtful. "Come on, Severus, I can see it's bugging you. Use some stupid hex if you're worried," Potter teased, smiling broadly.

"You seem overly happy today."

Harry just shrugged. "I oddly am, you know."

Snape nodded and sent a silent Stupefy, managing to shield himself at the last moment when the spell rebounded from the invisible wall.

"Interesting," the man commented thoughtfully. "And the mental attack?"

"Just try it," Harry said, leaning on the opposite wall and crossing his arms.

Severus gripped the wand tighter and after a second thought build up his Occlumency shields preparing for Merlin knows what (Has anyone ever invaded their own mind? Is it even possible? It does sound awfully insane…) and then cast a silent Legilimens in Potter's direction.

And wondered if he did it right. Not a great feeling.

"Legilimens," the professor tried again. Nothing. "Hmm," he said. "Why is it different?"

"Don't know. But I'll find out. The whole thing would be a lot more useful if it could absorb all magic, not just mental." If that was the case.

Severus nodded. "Alright then. If you're sure you can keep it up, we can go walk the bunch of you," he said with a straight face, but Harry could see the small glimmer of mirth in the man's eyes. “But we must not return late, I have tons of paperwork.”

Harry smiled and nodded as they both returned to the loud kitchen.

It took everyone about fifteen minutes to get ready. When it was confirmed that they're going to the muggle London, Ginny freaked out that she does not have appropriate clothes, therefore, she'd look like a complete nutter, and Hermione dragged her and Ron upstairs to find something. Snape and Malfoy exchanged glances at the sight and followed the departing figures with matching poorly hidden exasperation. Both of them were dressed suitably already, so they didn't have to worry over that. Harry always preferred muggle clothing anyway, not even owning any robes apart from Hogwarts uniform, thus no need to change. He did give several galleons to Kreacher, though, and send him to Gringotts for muggle money. They'd need it.

"So what do you have in mind, Harry?" asked Hermione when all of them finally exited 12 Grimmauld Place and headed toward the nearest bus stop.

"Don't know. Central London maybe? Museums, historical places, theatres… That kind of stuff. What do you think, Draco?" Potter turned to his right and looked at the blond. "Or we could go to the nearest park and have a picnic. Or go see a film. Or try and do everything," Harry smiled.

"Um… I don't really know much about the muggle world, so… Whatever you decide is fine."

The boy seemed uncomfortable with the whole situation but did not object to anything. What surprised Harry more, was the lack of Ron's comments or even glances toward the young Slytherin. He definitely missed a lot.

"Film? I’ve always wanted to watch one but dad never allowed me to go," said Ron. "He was afraid that I won’t be able to blend in properly and break the low. So I’m definitely in," he concluded loudly. Granger shook her head, exasperated. “I wonder why is that, Ron,” Ginny laughed.

"Let's go to the Center, then have dinner, and then to the cinema," Harry proposed. "Deal?"

"Yep," Ginny smiled and tightened her grip on Harry's left hand. Ron, Hermione, and Draco also agreed. "Severus?" Harry asked turning around to look at the man who walked quietly behind them.

"I do not care. I'm here merely as a supervisor," Snape said indifferently.

Harry stopped. "Of course, you're not. We're all adults, and we're all need to have a good time."

"Do we?" smirked Severus, "Well, in that case, I know a perfect place for dinner."

Potter smiled and everyone resumed walking chatting in low voices. Draco slowed his pace catching up with Severus. "Have you ever seen a film?" the boy asked quietly.

Snape glanced on his godson, then on the other teenagers who dutifully pretended to ignore them before saying, "No."

Draco frowned. "I just… As far as I remember, you grew up in the muggle world, and I assumed that…"

The Weasley-boy slightly turned his head at this but promptly ceased this abysmal attempt to eavesdrop after receiving a poke in the ribs from Granger. Idiots.

Severus placed a hand on Malfoy's shoulder. "My…family was poor. Trips like this one were luxury for us," the man replied evenly and looked pointedly at the blond. Thankfully, Draco was no fool.

Hours later the whole company was seated at the biggest table in the café that Snape talked about earlier. It was a nice place just outside the Center, lost in the labyrinth of the streets. The room was not exactly big, but with the walls painted in light blue color, long white airy curtains on the large windows, and light wooden furniture it seemed very spacious. To complete the image, the owners placed flowers on every available surface. Harry thought it gave the place an odd feeling of freedom. Potter always liked that about this café, but today the feeling was exceptionally strong. Maybe it was just his euphoria that only straightened with every passing minute.

Strange enough, despite the hour the café was nearly empty. Only a few couples and a family with two small kids were scattered around the room. _"Definitely tourists,"_ Harry decided to himself when listened closely to the quiet voices. They were all talking in different languages.

After several minutes of studying the menu had passed, a miniature girl with bright red hair that was tied in a loose ponytail, big blue eyes, and a wide smile appeared in front of their table. "Hello, my name is Susan. What can I get you?" she asked cheerfully, wrote everyone's order down, smiled again, and vanished.

"Nice place," Draco approved, nodding at Severus.

"It is. I've only been here one time, two years ago," the man replied. "The food was as good as at Hogwarts, I assure you."

"It doesn't seem like a place you would choose, sir," Hermione said. After their conversation in the library, she felt much more relaxed around Snape and sometimes even talked to him.

"It was not my choice, Miss Granger. I merely attended a meeting here."

Harry made a sip of his apple juice that Susan placed before him and smiled knowingly. "Oh, yeah. The Grey powder." Everyone looked at him.

"How —"

"What is it?" asked Ron, interrupting Hermione. Both girls glanced sternly at the rude boy, and Ron shrugged apologetically.

"It is a very rare potion ingredient, Mr. Weasley."

"I've read about it," Granger remembered excitedly. "It's dried and powdered petals of a rare Chinese Camellia, harvested only from the dead flowers on a certain faze of a moon cycle, weather, time of the day, without any magical influence… There's like a million conditions."

"You're not going to tell us all of them, are you?" Ron whined. "Hermione, it's summer. Relax. Aren't you tired of all this studying? You're always reading, even today you've found time for reading."

"Yes, I love books. And I thought that after all those years, Ronald, you'd understand and accept it but no, you just have to constantly whine about me reading. Stop it already!" the girl hissed, leaning toward her boyfriend who sat by her left hand.

"Um, guys…" Ginny started, from the corner of her eye watching Snape's reaction.

"I'm not the one who needs to stop, Hermione," Ron exclaimed. "I can't even talk to you these days because your nose is constantly buried in some stupid book!"

"My books are not stupid!" Hermione cried out.

"Guys!" Potter rose from the table to catch his friends' attention. "That's enough."

Both teens immediately shut up and the entire café fell deadly silent, all eyes on them.

Snape smirked loudly. Hermione blushed and dropped her gaze on the table.

"I merely pointed out that…" Ron said but was interrupted by Snape. "Mr. Weasley, I'm sure there will be plenty of time for your pointless bickering later."

"Sorry, sir," Ron replied, and no one spoke for a minute.

"Hermione, do you know where the nearest cinema is?" Harry asked to break the uncomfortable silence.

"No, I don't, actually. But we could ask someone or go to the one we were always going to with my parents."

They talked about films until Susan brought them ordered dishes, and while they ate too. It turned out that a few years ago when Fred and George opened the shop and got the first money, they secretly went to the cinema and then talked about it for weeks. Naturally, Mrs. Weasley was furious. And Mr. Weasley, along with the other family members, was so jealous. In a good way, of course.

The reminder of Fred dropped everyone's mood. Ginny excused herself from the table and went to the restroom, so she wouldn't lose it in front of all those people. Her brother was a hero, they all were, but despite what Harry said, there were times when she just didn't feel like one. But Ginny swore to herself that no one would ever see that. Fred never showed his doubts and fears, always kept going with his head held high, a huge grin all over his face, and a mischievous spark in his eyes, and so would Ginny.

Ten minutes later the girl returned to the others and joined their small talk about weather and defense spells Harry taught the DA two years ago that Malfoy presumably struggled with. Judging by the over-enthusiastic way Hermione explained things and by the attentiveness with which Ron and the ferret listened to her, Ginny was not alone in her determination to keep it together.

— - ♦ - —

**_The same evening, headquarters_ **

The film was rubbish (they purposely chose the least popular one). But all purebloods were excited because 'those pictures were moving and talking just like normal portraits do', Hermione did not care about the quality of the film because she skipped most part of it whispering explanations about all muggle things on the screen to her friends, and Snape seemed to be more interested in the process of film making and inner workings of cinemas in general, so Harry feigned indifference to all thirty-four faults that he counted in the film and politely kept his mouth shut while listening to the happy chatter of his friends. That was all he wanted from the moment he woke up today anyway, to see the joy on their faces.

"So, Draco, how did you like the muggle world?" Harry asked when everyone spread around the drawing-room with some occupation. The two boys sat comfortably on the sofa.

Malfoy tore his eyes from the dancing fire. "It's not bad," he shrugged. "I certainly did not expect it to be that… Um… Developed." He fell silent for a few moments. "I'm considering learning more about it. Don't know where to start, though," the boy said blushing slightly under the Snape's approving gaze.

Severus sat in the chair nearby with a book but stopped paying attention to it when Potter asked his question. "I suggest history," he proposed.

"I have a few books on muggle history," Hermione said moving the white pawn on the chessboard. "I can lend them to you if you want. There are several books on different periods of world history, two books on British history from different authors, and one with a crash course of all major events —"

"Hermione! Not again with the books… We are playing!" Ron whined for the umpteenth time.

"Ronald! Why are you always interrupting me? For your information, it is not very polite."

"Obsessing about books in the middle of the chess game is not polite either!"

"That's a pile of nonsense, Ron! And I'm not obsessing about anything, I only offered Draco my help, that is all."

"Guys, I'm _sick_ of your bickering. Could you _please_ stop?" Ginny intervened. She sat at the big antique table in the corner and wrote letters. "You are not alone here."

"Exactly, Miss Weasley. If you two dunderheads are unable to have a civil conversation, don't talk or go screeching someplace else," Snape said sternly, turning around to face the annoying teens, and then smirked at the glare the redhead sent in his direction.

"I just wanted to say that it is not healthy to read non-stop for weeks as you do, Hermione. I mean, look at Harry," Ron tried again, motioning toward the sofa. "I'm sure he doesn't have a habit of absorbing a library per day and look how great a wizard he became!"

"Thanks, Ron, it's nice to hear that you think I'm great. But I'd really like to stay out of this fight," Harry replied.

"Why?” The boy abandoned the chessboard completely at this point. “But you're on my side, mate, right?"

"Why? Because I don't want this fight to grow into the full-blown scandal. So I'm not taking sides."

"Come on, Harry. We all know that you didn't read much! You simply didn't have time for it. We were always together, so I think I'd notice a book in your hands."

That was it. It was a good opportunity to tell them one last secret he and Dumbledore had all those years but Harry did not lie when said that he didn't want scandals. And Ron was very likely to throw a tantrum…

Harry felt Snape's gaze and looked at the man who studied him with curiosity.

Oh, well… At least it would shut Ron up about books.

"I read probably even more than Hermione," Harry finally said.

"What?! When?" Ron looked horrified, it was so funny that others couldn't suppress a chuckle. “Do you not sleep or something?”

Hermione looked surprised. "Ron's right, Harry. We were with you almost 24/7. If that's true, the only way for you to be able to do this would be…" Her eyes shone with understanding.

"Being in two different places at the same time?" Harry finished for his friend, smiling.

Ron jumped up. "No way!"

"What? What's the matter?" Ginny asked.

"Do you still have it?"

"No, Ron. I never had it."

"Then how?" 

"Would anyone be so kind as to explain what are you three talking about?" Snape looked expectantly at all occupants of the room. "Potter?"

"Sure, sorry. They're talking about a time-turner," Harry said.

"Time-turner? I thought they were forbidden," Draco asked, and everyone’s eyes darted back on Potter.

"Yes, they are. But they were created because the time-traveling spell is far too complicated for average wizards. Therefore, they charmed an object with it so even the dumbest members of the society would be able to use it," he explained and the girls chuckled.

"And your point is…" Snape probed further.

"My point is simple. Time-turner is a spell plus an object, and I don't need either one. I can travel in time by myself."

Shocked silence engulfed the room.

"So you…" Severus continued.

"So since the evening Quirrell brought a troll in the school and until the final battle in Hogwarts, I lived every day at least twice. Well, except for one summer, that is."

"What did you do?" Hermione asked after a full minute of mute staring. Harry started to feel like he was in the aquarium full of gaping fish.

"A lot of stuff,” he shrugged. “I lived the day with you, guys, working on keeping my legend, on my social skills, on developing friendships, on overseeing your training and all that; then at night I got back to the morning and read books, brewed potions, worked on my magic or taught Albus some useful things, ran errands for him. And when good old Voldy-shmoldy returned, besides working with Dumbledore on finding and removing Horcruxes, I attended the Order meetings, kept an eye on people and things. You know, so nothing would go terribly wrong and no one would get hurt on the missions," Harry looked at Snape and smiled slightly. "You've no idea how many times I crossed the globe searching for all kinds of rare ingredients for you, Severus. Or how many traps that dear Bella devised never saw daylight. Or how many times you were _this_ close to being found out. How many punishments ended much sooner than planned."

Harry then turned back to his friends who paled more and more with every word. "You do not know how many times your families almost became a target. How many Death Eater raids just didn't happen for various reasons. How many times Tom planned to use you, Draco, and other Death Eater kids in his schemes."

When no one said anything, Harry added sighing, "It was busy fourteen years."

"Hey, it means you're twenty-four!" Ron exclaimed suddenly. "How can you date my sister if you're twenty-four?! She's not even of age yet! I won't allow you to… date my sister… anymore…" he mumbled at the end, blushing because everyone stared at him now. Hermione and Ginny laughed at the scene, Harry joined them after a second. Draco grinned and chuckled, even Severus smiled but shook his head.

“You don’t look twenty-four, Harry,” Malfoy said eyeing the Boy-Who-Lived critically.

Potter raised both eyebrows at that. He sure hoped he didn’t, or everyone would’ve noticed his ruse ages ago. But what the hell, what reason did he has now to continue hiding? None whatsoever. At least not with these people.

Harry reached inside his magical core and removed the glamour, making his friends gasp in shock. Instead of a skinny round-faced teenager, before them stood a bit pale, lean, and stocky young man and measured them with his weary but clear intelligent piercing gaze. His upright posture radiated peace and confidence. It was a man who saw too much. A man who has a lifetime of experience to share. If a man like this says you to jump, you jump and have no doubts, because no one knows better than him.

“How about now?” Harry asked arching an eyebrow again.

“Wow…” breathed Ron, slack-jawed. “Harry, you look… Wow.”

Hermione also stared with wide eyes, unable to utter a word. Ginny even blushed.

Severus looked Potter’s new appearance over and strangely did not feel any trace of shock all the annoying dunderheads around him were clearly experiencing. Now his mental view of the boy — _“The young man,”_ Snape corrected himself — was supplemented by the actual image. Another piece of a puzzle found its place.

Draco only gawked in complete awe but unlike Granger and the Weasley-clan, tried not to be obvious about it. He knew since he was a small child how dangerous displaying emotions could be. Not that he was in danger here. Still… Old habits die hard. Draco doubted he would ever fit in this motley gang of Harry’s. Even if they’d all try, like today, there always will be tension in between.

When everyone calmed down, Granger asked, "Will you ever cease to surprise us, Harry?"

“Wait,” she added, “What about the ministry? And the magical trace? You couldn’t have fooled them with glamour.”

“Yes, but most of them _are_ fools, Hermione,” Harry chuckled. “As for the tracking spells… Every bit of magic you create and use can be easily altered or removed. You just need to press the right buttons.”

“The right buttons?” Ginny asked.

“Muggle thing. You need to know where, when, how, and what to do,” Potter explained.

“Sounds fairly complicated to me…” resumed Draco, and Harry shrugged.

“Can you tell us more about what you did at the war? Or is it still a secret?”

"Not a secret, per se. But maybe another time, Hermione," Potter replied. "I don't see the point in rubbing salt in the fresh wounds."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," she thought for a moment and looked down on the abandoned chessboard. "You know, I should probably head home tomorrow. I haven't seen my parents in weeks, and we have a lot of catching up to do. Besides, my little sister is about to be born and I want to help mom take care of her. You don't mind, do you?

Harry smiled. "Of course I don't. It's your family. What would they name her?"

“Well, she was supposed to be Amy Monica Wilkins but since there’s no Wilkins, I don’t really know what they decided now.”

“It does not really matter what her name would be,” stated Harry. “With such wonderful parents and a sister like you, she’s bound to grow up to be an amazing person.”

“Thank you.” 

The girl walked up to Potter, made him stand up, and hugged tightly. "You know I'll always be there for you, right?" she said quietly in his ear. "You're like a brother to me. Well, a big brother," Hermione pulled away and smiled warmly.

Ginny also came near and tousled Harry's hair. "You know, I think you were right not to tell anything till it’s all over. My head is about to explode even when I think about everything you did tell us… If I was forced to actually live through any of it, I'd probably gone mad way back."

She also hugged Harry and whispered, "Twenty-four or not, I still love you."

Potter smiled at her.

"Hey, I was serious about that! He's like Charlie's age!" Ron exclaimed from behind his sister. "Just wait till I tell mom."

"Ugh, grow up, Ronniekins," Ginny replied and turned around.

"Hey!” Ron cried out and then looked Harry in the eyes. “You know, mate, I'm not thrilled to hear that you lied yet again… But I suppose, Ginny's right. I would've definitely gone mad. And I also know that you were just trying to protect us, so…" He pulled Harry into a third hug. "I'm sorry for being a shitty friend. I really am."

"Don't worry, I'm no better myself. Ronniekins," Harry grinned and received a playful hit on the shoulder.

"Um, where did Snape and Malfoy go? They were here like five seconds ago!" Ginny asked, surprised. “Sneaky Slytherins…”

“They’re upstairs,” Harry said.

“How do you know that?”

“I feel it.”

“How?”

And Harry told them all about that and about many other different things. _“Just like in the old times,”_ he thought. In the old times when they sat beside the fireplace in Gryffindor common room and talked about everything. When he could relax and forget who he is and what he needs to do when he re-run today. And believe it or not, sometimes Harry actually regretted that he had to die with the war. Yes, Dumbledore was right, friends _are_ important.


	16. Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, guys. You may find this chapter a little bit boring since there's virtually no action whatsoever and a lot of talking and magical theory, but I still love it with all my heart.  
> I hope you'll find it interesting as much as I do.  
> And, please, do let me know your thoughts afterwards!

# Magic

The next morning Severus woke up with his head already buzzing with questions. He still used Potter's Dreamless sleep at night, which is why he was mostly in such a good mood these days, but it seems his mind never stopped thinking, even if Snape himself didn't notice it while slept like the dead. Interesting effect, certainly worth a discussion.

The professor grudgingly opened his eyes and yawned. The already endless list of topics for a discussion grew exponentially, it was depressing. Severus was used to figuring out things on his own, but not now. Now all he could possibly do was speculate without being able to reach any solid conclusion. It was a far too similar feeling… Dumbledore used to do this a lot, with his annoying habit of talking in riddles and keeping things secret. At least Potter _did_ answer questions… Otherwise, Severus would have exploded long ago. He got up and stretched. Yes, today he definitely would be getting some answers. 

With this happy thought, Snape made his way to the bathroom to prepare for the day. It's a good thing the man basically had the whole floor for himself, if he was forced to share it with someone, things would get ugly very soon. It turned out that if Severus Snape actually _slept_ at night, he was not a morning person.

Half an hour later, Severus arrived at the kitchen not at all surprised to see Potter already there. The boy ( _"the man"_ , Snape corrected himself again) was caught up in some book, absently playing with a cup of coffee with his left hand.

"Good morning," he said quickly glancing at Snape and returning his gaze to the book. 

"Good morning," drawled Severus, making a cup of strong black coffee. "What are you reading?" 

Harry inhaled, intending to answer, but froze, and for five long seconds, no sound escaped him. "It's just a muggle novel," said Potter finally. 

"I see," Severus eyed the thick volume. "Which one?" 

"Stephen King's "The Shining". A horror story" laughed Harry. "Have you heard of it?" 

"I have, yes. Never read it." 

"Wanna try?" 

"Not particularly, no. I'm not a fan of fiction." 

Harry eyed the professor. "Pity. There are some really good ones." 

Severus just shrugged, not bothering to reply. 

"You know, I was planning to make changes in the house, and I thought maybe you have some ideas about your floor."

"It is not my house, Mr. Potter, therefore, it's not my place to do anything with it," said the professor raising an eyebrow. 

"Thank you for pointing that out, professor Snape," smirked Harry, "but I'm afraid I must insist. You do still want to learn the art I'm using, right? We'll turn redecoration into the exercise, so think about what you want to do, okay?" 

Severus refilled his cup and nodded. "About that. When shall we start? Professor," added he mockingly, and Harry laughed softly. 

"Start what?" asked Draco, walking in the kitchen and yawning. 

"Mr. Potter here is going to teach me some useful things," replied Snape, looking at Malfoy around his shoulder. 

"Can I watch?" 

"Um…" sighed Potter, "Sure, why not. But just so you know, we're going to be taking or sitting motionless with our eyes closed, so you won't be able to see anything exciting." 

Draco shrugged. "I'll bring a book for the boring parts, then." 

"Fine. Give me an hour to prepare, and then we'll start." Potter stood up and went to the sink to wash his cup, lost in thoughts. 

"Where are others?" asked Draco. 

"Hm?"

"The Weasleys and Granger," specified Malfoy. "Are you with us?" 

"Sorry," smiled Harry. "They already left. I'll see you both in an hour in my study. It's on the fourth floor, the door on the right." And he walked out of the room, leaving the book on the table. 

Draco glanced at it and curiously scanned an open page. "What the hell is that?" He asked Snape, surprised. 

"It's a muggle fiction, Draco. A horror story." 

"They write horror stories? Why?" 

"For fun," smirked Snape, seeing the puzzled expression on his godson's face. "They write all kinds of stories." 

"Can I borrow it?" Draco liked to read, but all books he ever lay a hand on were textbooks, designed for studying, not having fun. 

"It is not my book, but I don't think Potter would mind if you read it," said Severus.

— - ♦ - —

Precisely an hour later, both Slytherins stood outside the door of Potter's study, which swung open before they could knock.

"Don't just stand there, come in," invited Harry. 

The room was almost as big as the lab in the basement. Surprisingly, walls were not lined with bookshelves from floor to ceiling. Well, not all of them, only one to the left. And strangely, these shelves were hidden behind glass, Snape noticed. But looking closer, he understood why. All the books he was able to see in there were about dark magic. Probably warded. On the wall opposite the door were three large windows with light green curtains on either side of each. The walls themselves were covered with warm light wood. Two soft armchairs and a small round table stood in the corner on the brown fluffy round rug. Harry sat behind the big table made of dark wood on the right side of the room, already buried under piles of papers and parchments. Two comfy chairs stood opposite each other near the table. Along the wall were placed three enormous cabinets with various contents, much of which were closed behind the cabinet doors. The fourth wall was empty, except for the picture frame with no one in it. 

Potter got up and relocated himself on one of the chairs in front of his desk, gesturing Snape to the other one.

"Harry, may I borrow your book?" asked Draco, lifting 'The shining' up for Potter to see. 

"Sure, I read it already a few years ago. Just put it back in the library afterward, okay?" Draco nodded. "You can sit on the armchair over there."

Snape confidently strode to the pointed chair and sat down, looking Potter in the eyes. The last hour the professor spent worrying (which was foolish and useless) but something in the casual posture and calm face of his former student finally made him relax, and Snape sighed. 

"So," smiled Harry, "Severus. I've been thinking a lot about how we're going to work this all out, how to start, what to do next, and so on. Today's somewhat improvised, but starting tomorrow, we will meet here every day after dinner for at least three or four hours. Are you okay with that?" 

"Yes," Snape nodded. 

"Good. As you're no doubt know, the best place to start is the beginning, so today we will mostly talk. I'll ask you a few questions about your magic, and magic in general, because I need to know what you know, your level of awareness of yourself and everything around you. Please, try to answer as fully as possible, even if the question seems stupid and obvious. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. If you find yourself struggling to describe something properly, we could use legilimency, so I would see how you sense things. It's not necessary but would make everything much easier. You will also spend a lot of time inside my mind throughout these sessions, but I don't think we'll get to that point today. Questions?"

Severus thought for a moment, absorbing everything he was told just now. He was far from fine with legilimency when it was used on him, but there wasn't much of a choice. "Not a question, a request," he said. "If you do legilimize me, everything you see stays between us. I do not want anyone to know anything about me and my personal life." 

"Of course. Don't worry about that, I value privacy as much as you do."

Snape looked at Potter for a long moment and then nodded, apparently satisfied with what he saw. "Apart from one time before Draco's treatment started, have you ever invaded my mind?"

"No. I do have a link with your mind for many years now just for emergencies, but I've never used it," said Harry, noticing the slightly alarmed expression on Snape's face and explained further, "I made it when you went to the first meeting after Tom returned just in case something went wrong, so I'd be able to find and rip you away from his clutches."

Severus truly did not know what to say to that. He still found it hard to come to terms with the knowledge that someone _did_ look after him all those terrible years, after all, and tried not to think about it. 

Harry saw Snape's eyes become distant and glassy and decided to drop the obviously uncomfortable subject. "Anyway, if you don't have any other questions, it's time I ask mine. First things first. Magic and magical core. Or the _'Power Palace'_ , if you like," he smiled warmly. "What can you tell me about it? What does it look like? Where is it? How does it work? How does it feel? That kind of stuff. Not the theory that every first-year knows, we're talking about your magic specifically. Don't try to analyze it or make conclusions, just tell me how you feel it."

"Well," Severus sighed and thought for a while. "Magic is energy, so, obviously, I feel it as energy, but without any specific location. It just is, everywhere."

"Are you talking about energy as a muggle physical term?"

Severus raised an eyebrow and asked mockingly, "You know muggle physics?"

"Don't you?" shot Harry right back and shook his head in amusement. "Is it warm? Cold? Does it tickle maybe? Does it feel light or dark? Neutral? Indifferent? Rough or gentle? Is it easy to control?"

Snape smirked. "It is hard to say. I've never paid much attention to it, in all honesty. It's not cold, nor is it warm. Not light, not dark, not anything. It doesn't have any specific properties… Neutral, I'd say. I cannot say anything about control either, there's nothing I could possibly compare it to."

"Okay. What about your magical core?" 

"I can't feel it usually. Only when I'm truly drained." 

"What does it feel like?" 

"Just tightness in the chest and exhaustion." 

Harry thought for a second and placed an anti-magical ward around Snape. "Do you feel any different?" he asked. 

Severus tensed, momentarily recognizing the sensation. "Yes, I do, in fact. Before you ask, it feels exactly like last time, as if something's missing, but I can't tell what or where. Very unpleasant, though." 

Harry nodded and lifted the ward, making Severus shiver when his magic flooded him once more. 

"What's easier: defensive or offensive spells?" Harry asked after another moment. 

"There isn't much of a difference, really."

Potter leaned back and stretched his legs, holding his wand in one hand. "Disarm me. And pay close attention to yourself while you do this." 

Severus wanted to remind the brat of his place and opened his mouth, but suddenly remembered Potter's conditions and grabbed his wand to grudgingly do as he was told and cast the spell. The matter was not worth fighting over. As per usual, the barely noticeable flow of energy ripped from his chest through the right arm to the wand, and the next moment Potter's wand flew high into the air towards Severus, but to everyone's surprise, it vanished in mid-air, instantly reappearing in Harry's hand. 

"Now, cast any other spell at me, please." 

"Any?" 

"Yes. Well, except _Avada_ , of course. Change the color of my t-shirt. And then tell me if you felt any difference," smiled Harry.

Severus concentrated and pronounced the correct words with a mischievous spark in his eyes. Potter's t-shirt instantly became bright pink and glittering, but to everyone's amusement, the spell rebounded and colored Snape's shirt too. Draco nearly fell from his armchair from laughter. 

"Oh, come on. How are you doing this?" asked Snape, exasperated. 

Harry grinned cheekily. "Magic, professor. Just magic. So, did you feel any difference between the spells?" he asked, canceling the effects. 

"None whatsoever," replied Snape after a second. "Do _you_ feel the difference?"

"I do," said Harry. "So can you describe what's exactly happening when you cast a spell? 

"How am I supposed to do that?" 

"Pay attention to yourself, that's all," repeated Potter. 

"Oh, just like that? Really?" told Snape sarcastically and sighed. "I felt a small impulse of magic rip from my chest to the wand. The stronger the spell, the more energy it requires, and the bigger said impulse becomes. Other than that, nothing changes. Any more questions?" 

"Well…"

"So did I pass your test, _professor_?"

"It wasn't a test, _professor_. I'm merely collecting information about your magic," he shrugged. 

"In that case, I too would like to collect some information about _your_ magic."

"Shoot."

"Answer your own questions," said Snape and shifted slightly on his seat to take a more comfortable position, and narrowing his eyes a bit. 

"Uh, that will take a while, but okay, fine. Draco, you can move over here if you want." 

Malfoy walked closer to them and sat on the chair behind Harry's desk, clasping his hands together. 

Harry continued, "First of all, magic is _not_ the energy. Not in a physical sense that you meant, Severus. It only acts that way when you use a wand and precisely for that reason. Kids usually don't feel anything at all at the beginning, though, everything they do just _happens_ if they say the right words. In reality, things are a little bit different and slightly more complicated."

"I'll explain on myself. Magic is a part of me. It's a part of every cell, every tiny particle of my body, a part of my DNA if you want. It's also a part of my soul. This is why muggles can't become ghosts after they die. Magic can't be divided or removed from me in any way, under any circumstances, ever. What you considered 'magical core' is, in fact, a soul intertwined with magic. It's not substantial, which makes it more concentrated, so if I'm gonna use some particularly strong spell, it will affect my soul more, than any part of my body. Therefore, tightness in the chest. What was next?"

Severus opened his mouth to reply, but Harry interrupted him. "Oh, yes, I remember. How does it feel like… It's hard to explain, really. You won't notice it until you lose it. Or use it," smiled Potter. "When you cast a spell with a wand, you order your magic to do something, at the same time directing it towards your wand, then through it, and only then on the object or person. We'll talk about the next steps later. All this, in my humble opinion, is quite tiresome, absolutely unnecessary, and sometimes downright stupid. Wandless magic is far less complicated in that regard. But it's also a subject for another discussion. Um… Back on track. You were right about the impulse, though, Severus. But it's almost never neutral. You sensed the power with which you pushed the spell through the wand, but you didn't sense the intent behind it. All spells are different because there are different intents behind each of them. Offensive spells always feel rougher, for example. Shields are soft and warm like a blanket. There's no point in going into specifics right now, but I suppose you got a general idea."

"Yes, I did," replied Snape.

"You're good at explaining stuff, Harry. How do you know all this?" asked Draco, looking confused more than anything.

"I feel all this and much more. You'd feel it too if you tried hard enough."

"Wow. So I could learn this stuff too?"

Potter and Snape glanced at one another. "Sorry, Draco, but I don't think it's a good idea," said Harry tentatively. "This is dreadfully hard to handle, especially when you have to break all your habits and instincts, and aren't adept at wandless magic and mental arts. I honestly don't see any point in even trying. You don't need it. If you're bored to death, consider reading some school materials for the next year. I can help you with practice. Or there’s a lot of muggle fiction you can read. Or go find a hobby."

"But you're teaching Severus anyway," drawled the blond suspiciously. 

"Harry was not happy when I approached him with this request, I assure you. But I have my reasons, Draco, and they are quite valid."

"I see," said Malfoy and got up. "May I be excused?"

"Certainly," replied Snape and both he and Harry watched silently how Draco marched toward the exit with his head held high, clutching 'The shining' to the chest.

Severus ignored his godson, lost in thoughts. Even the boy had noticed… Maybe his mad idea wasn't so mad, after all.

"Severus. Are you still here?" chuckled Harry. 

"Potter. I have a very important question for you. But, please, think about it properly before you decide." 

Harry's grin faded a little. What's the matter? He had an idea, but… 

"Tell me, since you refused to go back to Hogwarts for your seventh year, what are you going to do instead? Any plans?" 

"Um… Kind of, yes, a few," he paused for a second. "Nothing concrete yet." To be honest, Harry planned to do absolutely nothing, except travel around the globe for a few years, relaxing and working on his magic occasionally. Maybe try and increase the distance of his jumps in time. It always interested him, and now, when Dumbledore's gone, there's nothing to stop him.

And then he remembered their mysterious Tinky-winky and sighed. There wasn't likely to be any peace whatsoever until he dealt with them. May as well accept Snape's offer, whatever it is.

"What would you think if I invited you back to school but as a Defense professor? I'm absolutely sure you won't have any problems with your NEWTs this month, you're more than of age, you obviously know about magic more than anyone could possibly imagine. Besides, with you there I could better protect the students. I’ve already harmed them enough…" he added quietly, looking Harry straight in the eyes. "I'm not demanding an immediate answer from you, think it through. I planned a few interviews for the DADA and Muggle studies posts on Thursday and a staff meeting on Friday. You have until then."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, just looking calmly at each other. Snape had a point. But Harry was never really interested in a teaching career. Truth be told, he didn't know what he _was_ interested in. And Draco was right, Harry was good at explaining. And had endless patience. And as Severus pointed out some time ago, Harry _did_ drag the man back into the snakes' nest and now simply must help him get through the worst of it at the very least. There won't be many problems with protection from the distance, but it would definitely be an easier task if he did it directly from the castle.

"Alright, I agree. Let's discuss the details later, okay? We should get back to the lesson," said Harry, and poorly hidden relief flooded Snape's eyes. He won't be left alone with the vultures. 

"Thank you, Harry." 

Severus was thinking about it for a while now but wasn't sure if he could actually ask. His relationship with the Golden boy vastly improved over the last several weeks. The man still wasn't sure if he liked this new version of Potter, but it definitely was better than the old one. It didn't remind him of Lily or James, which made looking at their son considerably easier, especially after all those years. This unbearable annoying itching to pay the debt died with Voldemort, giving him the opportunity to finally start breathing again. And love… Severus couldn't decide if he imagined it all or actually felt, so much time had passed. 

"Severus… Five points from Slytherin." joked Harry. 

"...What?" 

"You're daydreaming again." 

Snape chuckled. "Excuse me, _professor_. I was just thinking how radically one's life can change in a mere month. If at the beginning of May I knew what I'd be doing now, I'd have to check myself into St. Mungo…" 

"Guess, you're right," laughed Harry. "Everything did change rather dramatically for you. Anyway, let's get back to business, shall we? We have some things to discuss about magic in general, and we have some meditation to do. In which order is up to you."

Severus thought for a second. "Let's keep talking."

"Okay. So, the most basic stuff, then. Spells. What is it?"

Snape quirked an eyebrow. _Really?_ First-year Charms, lesson one. 

Harry grinned. "Humor me." 

Sighing, Severus drawled, instantly switching into the teaching mode, "Spell is a controlled manifestation of magic. In order to succeed in casting spells, one needs to meet four factors: wand movement, incantation, concentration, and intention. Noting that spells could also be performed without a wand and/or speech, I would point the concentration out as the most important factor."

"Why? I mean, the intent is very important too, isn't it?"

"It is," said Snape. "But it is not enough to simply _want_ to do something. Things don't just happen." 

"They do sometimes. If I'd suddenly attack you, you'd automatically protect yourself. You'd need to concentrate to maintain the shield, but not to conjure it in the first place."

"Well, life tends to be harder than necessary for me. It is not the case with most of the others, though." 

"We're not talking about others, we're talking about you. Here, now."

"And I do concentrate on every spell I produce. I'm just not doing it intentionally sometimes," argued Severus.

"Yes, you do, but… Okay, an example," The room suddenly became pitch black. Harry held his wand in front of him, saying: " _Lumos_ ", and a small ball of white light appeared at its tip. "It was too dark, so I _wished_ for light, _said_ the correct word, at the same time _concentrating_ on delivering my command to the wand, and _flicked_ it a bit. And — voila — we have some light. This is the conventional way of things." 

Harry held his still lightened wand to Severus, who took it without comment, and the room went dark again. 

"However common and regular that way is, it's not the easiest. Now I do not have a wand, therefore, no need to concentrate on it or to flick it. I won't say or even think of the incantation, so I don't have to waste the energy, converging my wish into words. But look…"

The exact moment when Potter stopped explaining, the whole room filled with blinding white light for a fraction of a second, it was so bright, their eyes hurt. 

"And this is what happens when I just wish for things to happen. The pure intention, without restrictions. If you would simply sit here and concentrate on magic, all you could possibly achieve would be the ability to sense its presence within you. We'd be doing it too, of course, but a tad later."

The room returned to its normal state, and both men blinked, while their eyes adjusted to the light again.

“So, do you see what I’m talking about? The intention is the most important thing, and in the beginning, we will be focusing on it for the most part. I meant what I said to Draco, you’ll have to destroy all your previous habits and do things with a different approach. The exact opposite, actually. Be prepared to struggle with the simplest things. It is not difficult to make your magic do something, you only have to wish for it, after all, but controlling it during the process is much harder. You need to be aware and in control of every step you’re making, every tiniest change.”

Severus only nodded. What the hell he dragged himself into? He was perfectly happy with the amount of power he already possessed and didn’t need more. Maybe he should relax and let Potter keep protecting them all. The boy obviously knew what he was doing. And now, when he agreed to work with Snape, the headmaster didn’t need to learn anything. He would never become good enough in the short time they had anyway.

But it all was so interesting. The nerd inside Severus thrived and cheered. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, he would never have it again.

Harry watched his new employer, while the man pondered everything carefully. For a second Potter thought that Snape finally understood the sheer complexity of what he tried to get into headlong and would shut the whole thing down, but then something sparkled in his eyes, and Severus relaxed, apparently coming to a decision. Harry gave him another few moments and continued their lesson. 

"Now. We’re gonna move to the practical part. Do you have any questions about all this before we start?”

“You said that the magical core is, in fact, a one’s soul,” Potter nodded. “How did you know this? Can you sense your soul?”

“Oh, thank Merlin, I can’t. It must be so crippled after all those years that I should be in constant agony. You don’t want to know, believe me,” he added when Snape inhaled, preparing to ask about it. “No, I figured that part out after my encounters with dementors,” he shuddered. “Horrible creatures. Very creepy. The soul-sucking process becomes unbearably unpleasant and painful when you can actually sense what’s going on. I don’t care for the bad memories, God knows I’ve been living in them for years, but when a dementor comes near and starts feeding, it's literally ripping your soul apart in the process. I suppose it’s difficult to do from the distance, and that’s why they can only tear away fairly small portions of a soul at one go, and that’s why they need a kiss to have the whole thing, but it explains a lot why people who’ve been in Azkaban for a long time are unable to recover completely. It has nothing to do with the absence of happiness, though, that doesn’t help matters either.”

Snape watched Potter almost cheerfully explain how dementors tear apart souls and couldn’t help but feel bad. “What have you done to your soul, boy?” he asked very quietly. He truly never considered that possibility.

Harry’s eyes turned cold instantly. “Don’t ask, Severus. I’ve done many things, and some of them weren’t…” he paused, “We all did what we had to in the circumstances we did not choose. Live it be.”

They fell silent for a long moment eyeing each other.

“You described how one’s magic delivers spells to their destination, but you never said what a spell actually is. From that art of your's point of view, I mean.”

“The definition of a spell you used is correct, it is a controlled manifestation of magic. I suppose you’re asking about the exact mechanics of it, but I’m afraid we shall discuss it at another time. It’s simply too big and complicated to dive into right now. Do you have other questions?” replied Harry, relieved that Snape dropped the subject of souls.

“No, nothing comes to mind right now.”

“Okay, to the practical part, then. I’m gonna assume that you have been meditating every night of those past weeks, as we discussed, so you won’t have any problem with it now. We’ll start working on your awareness of your own magic. The exercise is simple. You need to choose a spell that you’ll have to maintain. A _Protego_ , for example, or _Lumos_. You conjure a spell, and you keep it during the whole exercise, eventually using it as an object for your meditation, trying to find and concentrate on the flow of magic inside of you, feeling it, adjusting to the sensation, memorizing it. Don’t start occluding, though. This is not about mind, it’s about physical sensations. Don’t look for them, allow your body to relax, it’s all there, you’re just too tense and preoccupied to feel it. I think it would be better if you relocated to one of the armchairs over there, they’re a lot more comfortable. And forget I’m here,” smiled Potter also getting up and walking around the table to take the seat behind his desk once more.

Severus grunted in response, walked to the other side of the room, sat down comfortably, and conjured a ball of light in front of him. It was far easier to maintain subconsciously. Closing the eyes, the man took a few deep breaths to calm down and started his usual process, concentrating first on the air floating in and out of his lungs. Keeping his head empty was a bit more difficult this time with blasted Harry Potter in the room, but Snape managed fine for the most part. Yes, the boy proved to be a good teacher. Severus did not regret his previous decision to hire Potter as a Defence professor. Pity, the students didn’t have him before, maybe there wouldn’t be so many casualties among them if Potter were to teach them properly back then. Wait… Stop this.

Cutting his straying thoughts off, Severus returned his attention to breathing. In… Out… In… Out…

In…

Out…

After a while and two more internal monologues, Snape finally reached that state of simple existence he was aiming for. There were nothing and no one but himself there. His heartbeat in the rising and falling chest. Cool air traveling down the throat. Aching shoulders, neck, and back. Slightly stiffened butt. Warm wood in the right hand. The overwhelming flow of cold energy directed to his hand from every corner of his being.

Surprised by this sudden revelation, Severus startled and dropped his wand, instantly opening the eyes. Still remembering the odd sensation, the man shuddered and glanced at smiling Potter.

“You’ve felt it, I assume,” said Harry, laying the quill down. “Congratulations, my friend. Welcome to our ranks.”

Snape smirked. “Why, thank you.”

“It was a good start. You’ve achieved a great deal in less than an hour and a half, you know. It’s very impressive. You did great,” praised Harry quietly. “And on this cheerful note, we’ll conclude our session for today. I have a few letters to answer, so I’ll see you later.”

Severus nodded and got up to leave.

“Don’t forget to repeat the exercise before you go to bed, okay?” added Potter, and after receiving one more nod from the doorframe, returned to his writing.

It indeed went well. Far better than he ever hoped.


	17. Home, sweet home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, there are mentions of some violence in the end, you've been warned.

## Home, sweet home

Two figures stood on the dirt road just outside the iron gates and silently looked ahead of them in a rare moment of nostalgia. The soft warm breeze of mid-June was slightly ruffling their hair and caressing the skin. The sun wasn't very high yet, and its beams lazily enveloped the grounds, begrudgingly helping all inhabitants of Mother-nature live through another day. 

"You know, I never wanted to attend this place," said the shorter one quietly as if trying not to disturb the moment and not sparing even a glance at his companion. "You lot were crazy. I received a few _hundreds_ of letters." 

The other man smirked. 

“Minerva got into a fit when the first letter was destroyed before you got the chance to read it, and decided that she would not give up until you do.”

“Yeah… I’ve figured that much,” chuckled the first one, finally moving to open the gates and step through. “Sending Hagrid, though, was a very poor idea. I was a heartbeat away from killing him.”

Severus stopped dead. That was not what he expected to hear. 

“What?!” exclaimed the man, making Harry turn around.

“A potentially mad tramp-looking giant breaks into your house in the middle of the night, literally ripping the door off its hinges. What would you do?” asked Harry, raising an eyebrow questioningly, and making Snape smirk again. Well, looking from _that_ angle… He sighed and nodded curtly, then the pair resumed their walk.

“What stopped you?”

“He placed the door back to its frame and invited himself for a tea… Who does that?” Harry shook his head amusingly. “Besides, I legilimized him, and found out that he was just an errand-boy with yet another bloody letter, not to mention completely harmless.”

“I wouldn’t say giants are harmless. Even half-giants” drawled Snape.

“Severus. I nearly willed his fucking heart to stop just like this,” he scowled and snapped fingers to emphasize the point. “Do you really think he posed any danger to me?”

“Remind me not to cross you, ever,” replied Snape after a few seconds.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I very rarely feel murderous these days," smiled Harry sweetly. "And taking into consideration that my 'dear family' is still breathing and with all their limbs attached, you are perfectly safe no matter what you do,” waved Harry off halfheartedly. “Your little insults never had any power whatsoever.”

Both men continued their way to the castle in silence, while Snape contemplated their conversation and especially the last comment. Potter was… Well, Severus didn't really know what to think of him anymore. On the one hand, the man seemed to genuinely trust him. During those several sessions they had, Harry honestly answered all questions Severus dared to ask (and sometimes even those he didn't), guided him through the exercises, didn't hide his emotions and reactions, had no qualms with demonstrating his power, as he seemed to while the others were around. It was a good sign. It meant that everything Severus couldn't bring himself to fully believe about all the revelations about his past and Potter's involvement in it that were made so far was true. That he actually had someone to stand by him. Someone who saw the worst of him but still remained. A friend. 

On the other hand, it all was so fucking confusing. Every answer brought more questions, every attempt to clarify things only tangled them more. 

How bloody complicated one person could possibly be?

And that story with Hagrid… From the way the giant spoke of Harry from the moment he delivered the letter and took the boy to his first trip to the Diagon Alley, Severus always presumed that the two of them had a friendly relationship. But judging by the way new Harry speculated about almost killing his Ground-keeper without a care or a second thought as if they were talking about the weather, Severus started to rethink his previous assumption. And then he almost smacked himself on the forehead. Indeed, why did he expect Potter to treat everyone the same and be the same when he most definitely was a completely different person? 

He needed a drink.

The entrance hall was quiet and empty. All work for restoration after the battle was finished nearly a week ago, so the only castle occupant was Mr. Filch, and he was nowhere to be seen. Harry silently strode through the corridors toward the headmaster’s office with Snape in tow.

But with every step forward Severus less and less wanted to go to that blasted office. Dumbledore's portrait was there. 

Last year Severus was spending almost all his time in the round room, simply because it was the only safe place for him in the entire castle. The damn portrait seemed like a lesser of the two evils. Now though…

"You know, you could hold the interviews someplace else," Harry said suddenly. 

Snape raised an eyebrow at that. 

"You're slowing down more and more the closer we get," explained Potter. "No one would blame you for wishing to be comfortable in your own office, Severus. Dumbledore's portrait definitely isn't helping matters. I would suggest relocating it somewhere you won’t go frequently," he said.

They stopped in front of the gargoyle and it instantly jumped aside. Harry moved forward. "I hate passwords," he muttered to the headmaster, answering the unspoken question. 

"Where would you suggest I relocate him?" asked Snape quietly, while the two of them stood on the moving staircase.

"Anywhere. To the entrance hall, staffroom, astronomy tower, Myrtle's bathroom, the Chamber of Secrets, forbidden forest, Black lake," chuckled Harry. "Or simply to my office."

Severus froze with his hand on the doorknob and looked at Potter strangely.

"You… Why?"

Harry just shrugged. "It doesn't bother me. Plus the old fool would be under control there. God knows he meddled enough for a few lifetimes already."

They stood in silence for several very long heartbeats, eyeing each other. There it was again. That nice feeling in the chest. “Thank you,” all Severus managed to breathe in response, relief barely hidden behind his eyes.

“Don’t mention it,” smiled Harry warmly and motioned to the door. Snape sighed and nodded, preparing himself. But when the door opened, he was met with the empty wall instead of the usual twinkling wizard.

“That was fast…” commented the headmaster, slowly striding to his desk.

Harry sat at his usual chair and combed his hair with his fingers. An old habit. “Well, why wait? I’m not particularly burning with desire to see him either, you know,” he smiled crookedly. “I shudder every time someone mentions those god-awful lemon drops. Or when I see someone’s eyes twinkling.”

And a wave of shivers ran through Harry’s entire body, confirming his words. Severus snickered.

“Completely understandable. I have a similar reaction to these things.”

Potter nodded, eyeing the wall behind Snape. “What are you going to put on that wall?”

Severus turned around and looked at the empty space contemplatively. “Don’t know. Bookshelves, probably.”

“Hah, why am I not surprised?” smiled Harry, shaking his head.

They sat talking for several more minutes until the first candidate for a Muggle studies post knocked at the door. Harry promptly excused himself and went to his own new office to settle before he started working on the anti-magical ward around the perimeter of the grounds, which was the main reason why he went to the castle today instead of going to the ministry archives, as was originally planned. Now he’d have to visit them after the NEWTs next week.

The DADA office now had access from the corridor instead of from the classroom, as it was previously. Harry arrived at the right door and opened it, lost in thoughts. He already started planning the lessons, pondering the possible changes in the curriculum. 

“Harry, my boy, what is the meaning of it?” asked a familiar voice.

The man shot his eyes at the portrait on the left wall for a brief moment and shrugged. “I will not let you bother Severus anymore,” he replied evenly, not looking at Dumbledore but instead eyeing the empty room, deciding on the furniture.

“Harry,” drawled the painting accusingly. “I’ll never —”

“I will not let you bother me either,” Potter cut him off with a deadly glare. “One more word, and you’ll be chatting with the giant squid at the bottom of the Black lake until that portrait of yours is rotten.”

That shut the former headmaster up rather quickly to Harry’s relief, and he went back to the task at hand.

Changing his mind, Potter decided that he needed to take care of the anti-magical ward first. So he conjured himself a chair, sat down, and leaned back, stretching his arms. Harry closed his eyes and let himself adjust to the magic of the castle once more, allowing his senses to slowly crawl away from him towards the edges of the grounds, absorbing every inch into his mental map of Hogwarts, pinning the exact location of everyone and everything. It was quite a shock when he felt it for the first time, which resulted in his careless mistake during the very first Welcoming feast. Of course, Harry wasn’t able to sense all the perimeter back then, but after years of living in the non-magical environment, suddenly finding himself in a place soaking with magic was overwhelming at the very least. Even Diagon Alley didn’t make him feel _that_ dizzy.

After a few minutes, when the map was complete, Harry started working on the ward around the grounds. He created two thin barriers at the very edge of the perimeter, setting them at a distance of about six and a half feet from each other. That should be sufficient enough. Then he cleared the area between them from magic, making it so that the magic of everyone inside would be blocked; straightened both barriers, adding reflecting qualities to them. On the second thought, Harry made the outside barrier send an alarm to him and Severus should any unwelcome guests decide to enter the grounds.

Then he apparited to the new ward to check his creation. A few spells and mental probing later, satisfied, Harry slowly made his way back on the third floor to settle in his office, classroom and quarters. He decided to start with the office.

Half an hour later, professor Potter sat at his new large desk and admired his work. The walls were now light green with dark wooden skirting boards at the top and bottom edges. Two windows behind the desk were framed with also green — though a shade or two darker than the walls — curtains. The wall on Harry’s left was lined with bookshelves, empty for now. He will have to sort through his entire collection to decide which books he would need here. The bookcase nearest to the window (and on Harry’s immediate left) was reserved for students' essays and already charmed to be accessed only by him. On the right wall near the door hung a sleeping portrait of Albus Dumbledore, and closer to the windows and the desk was a big ornamented fireplace with a pot of floo powder on top of it. By the left side of the wall opposite Harry stood a soft-looking brown couch with a small coffee table. Above it hung a peaceful highland landscape in a thin black frame. On the right side of the wall was a simple wooden door leading to the corridor. The door to the classroom was hidden behind Dumbledore’s portrait. The secret door to his quarters was behind the last bookcase beside the couch. Near the desk stood two black chairs opposite each other. On the dark wooden floor near the fireplace lay a big beige rug, decorated with large almost imperceptible geometrical figures.

Peaceful, inviting, but formal enough.

Perfect.

A sudden knock on the door tore him away from musings.

“Enter,” Harry called, and the door opened, revealing Severus and a short young woman with short dark brown hair and greyish eyes behind him. She was dressed in jeans and a navy button-down. Harry stood up as they walked in and gestured to the sofa.

Snape looked around the room. “I’m impressed,” he said, sitting down. “May I introduce to you our new member of staff, professor Belcher.”

She immediately jumped up from her seat and held out a hand. Harry shook it, smiling politely. The woman looked way too enthusiastic for his liking.

“Amanda Belcher, Mr. Potter. It is so nice to meet you! When I went to my interview today I didn’t know, I couldn’t even dream of making your acquaintance! Oh my God, I feel dizzy,” she beamed and shook her head. “When the headmaster told me you’re here as well, I couldn’t help but ask him to meet you. I hope you do not mind.”

“Of course not,” nodded Harry. “We’d meet anyway tomorrow at the staff meeting. Would you care for some tea?” he asked, moving one of the chairs closer and sitting down as well.

“Yes, it would be wonderful!” replied Belcher.

“Severus?” Potter looked at the man and smirked at his carefully schooled expression. The man obviously liked the cheerful display of fangirling as much as Harry did. Snape’s eyes snapped into Potter’s. “Yes, why not.” He deliberately sat, slightly turning his back to the still sleeping Dumbledore’s portrait, not once looking in his direction.

“Dipsy,” called Harry.

With a pop, a house-elf appeared in the room and bowed. “Harry Potter, sir, called Dipsy! What can Dipsy do for Harry Potter?” she asked, grinning happily.

“Could you please bring us tea?”

“Of course, sir! One moment, sir!” cried the elf and popped away. Half a minute later, all three of them sipped their tea, while Amanda chatted non-stop about how she always believed in Harry, how grateful she is to him for saving them all from a madman, and how all her friends would envy her.

Harry only half listened, nodding, and smiling at the right places. He was used to receiving such attention by now but still hoped to be spared from it inside these walls. No luck here.

“Did you attend Hogwarts, professor?” he asked, catching the first opportunity to stop the incessant blabbing.

“Oh, please, call me Amanda,” she placed her cup at the table and smiled. “We’re colleagues! And yes, I did. I graduated the year before you started. Such a pity.”

“You were a Hufflepuff, as far as I remember, were you not?” drawled Snape, leaning to his side, placing his right elbow on the back of the couch, and crossing his legs.

“Yes, sir. How’s professor Sprout these days?” she looked at Severus and noticed Dumbledore’s portrait on the wall behind him eyeing them carefully.

“She is well, as you will be able to see for yourself tomorrow, Miss Belcher.”

The woman nodded, the curious sparkle in her eyes. He glanced back and forth between Potter and Snape, and then asked, seemingly giving up on trying to contain herself, “Why’s professor Dumbledore’s portrait here and not with the others?”

“Oh, that’d be my fault,” said Harry before Severus could utter a word. “We were quite close, you see, and have a lot to catch up with the old man. So I asked Severus — begged almost — to be allowed to have the painting here,” Potter smirked and glanced warningly at Albus, while Amanda looked at Snape and that back at him.

“You look different, Harry. May I call you Harry?” Potter nodded. “Older than I thought.”

Harry thought for a second. “Well, that’s because I am older than you thought,” he said. After hours spent debating with himself, he decided to reveal his true age to the world, simply because he was tired of putting on a teenager act. Yesterday he was approached by Kingsley, who wrote to Harry and asked if he would be willing to give a big interview to the _Daily Prophet_ , and Potter agreed on the condition that Rita Skitter would not be allowed anywhere near it and promised that if he’d find even one word changed, all hell will break loose for every person responsible. They (Harry, Kingsley, and some nameless but supposedly trustworthy reporter) agreed to meet at Hogwarts today at noon.

It was quarter to noon.

“Really? How so?” asked Amanda, looking confused.

“Well, I’m about to give a big interview, so you’ll find out soon enough,” replied Potter with a small smile.

“Yes, about that,” intervened Snape, “When they’re arriving? I’d like a private word with you before that.”

“At noon,” said Harry and stood up. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then, Amanda,” he smiled at the woman who nodded and also got up.

“Good day to you both, gentlemen. Nice to meet you, Harry. Headmaster,” she dipped her head one more time and quietly slipped out of the room. Potter made sure she headed to the exit and then turned his attention to Snape.

“I am not going to reveal anything personal, don’t worry. Just general facts, safe for a public ear.”

Severus looked at him for a long moment and sighed. “You’re way too perceptive for your own good, you know.”

Harry laughed. “Just like you?”

“Cheek. Why are you even doing this?” Snape closed his fingers around the long cold cup, turning it back and forth and staring at it.

“People need to know the ugly truth if we want to have a chance for at least a century of peace and quiet,” shrugged Harry. “About that. Um… I gave some thought recently and wanted to speak to you about some changes around here if you’re willing.”

“Yes, of course. We’ll discuss it tomorrow after the staff meeting. Have you had time to put some thought into the DADA curriculum?” asked Severus.

“Time traveler, remember?” chuckled Potter, pointing to his chest. “I have all the time in the world. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be ready to answer any and all your questions tomorrow, headmaster.”

Severus nodded and a moment later felt someone enter the grounds. Two someones, to be exact. Snape could not identify them, but judging by Harry’s reaction, he supposed the intruders were Shacklebolt and the reporter. He wondered if Harry too felt just the presence of two unnamed persons or if he could tell who it was. Severus was in the middle of the battle with his own curiosity when he heard Potter giggle quietly.

“Just ask,” he said. “We’ve at least ten minutes before they get here.”

Snape raked his hair with his fingers and shot the man a stern glare. Bloody embarrassing!

“I was merely wondering if you could identify who just entered the grounds.”

“Yes, in part. I know Kingsley, so I can tell it’s him when he is nearby. But the one with him I do not know personally, so I can just tell that he or she is magical,” explained Harry.

Severus nodded and got up. “I’ll leave you to your business, then.”

And he started moving toward the door.

“You can stay if you want.”

Snape froze midstep, contemplating. He didn’t know if he wanted to stay or not. It would definitely be easier to know what they would talk about right away than wait until the article would be released. Yes, he trusted Potter to keep his word and not discuss anything Severus wouldn’t want anyone to know, but he was still nervous. He just couldn’t help it.

And he was not allowed to occlude emotions at his tutor’s order.

Fine, he’ll stay.

Severus turned around and glanced at Potter. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am. Sit down, Severus,” smirked Harry.

He ordered a fresh pot of tea from the kitchens, and afterward, they sat in comfortable silence. Harry moved to sit behind his desk again, putting the black chair back in front of it, then he pulled the list of parchment, quill, and ink from one of the drawers and started writing furiously. Severus slowly sipped yet another cup of tea and ate one of the biscuits, provided by elves, and wished he had a book right now. Summoning one from his own office, Snape dove into the words.

The comfortable silence lasted only for a few more minutes until a knock on the door ripped it away from them. They both stood up, and Harry came to the door to let the guests in. After a brief greeting, when everyone was seated, Severus once again found himself admiring Harry’s office. He hasn’t thought of it at the beginning, but now, when he could see Potter’s plan in motion… He couldn’t help but be impressed.

The room was simple and functioning, nothing luxurious. The general atmosphere was calm and soothing even. Severus found himself relaxed, despite the presence of a certain portrait. Potter’s desk and bookshelves dominated the place, pointing out quite obvious that the owner was smart. Harry sat at the desk, on the comfortable-looking soft chair, big enough to scream ‘I’m the boss’ but modest enough to not look like a throne. The man didn’t seem to have a single worry, confidently looking down at Kingsley and the reporter by the name Smith, both of whom sat on the plain wooden chairs before Harry. No one in their right mind who knew Shacklebolt would say the man was small. He always effortlessly took over any room he walked in, but right now the Minister of bloody magic seemed overshadowed and put down. What to say about the visibly trembling scrawny figure of the reporter… Snape felt a pang of pity for the men.

Harry deliberately did not invite his guests to sit on the couch even knowing that it was big enough for three persons to fit easily.

When Snape and Belcher came in, Harry was the one to sit on the wooden chair, not his guests.

Severus leaned on the back of the couch, relaxing even more, and caught Potter’s eyes, smirking. Even the damn Dumbledore was placed near the door strategically. It showed everyone who came in that the owner of this office was important enough to have it, and more importantly, that one of the strongest wizards of their time was beneath Harry. Unlike every other portrait of a former headmaster, Dumbledore’s did not hang above Potter, pressing on him with his years, experience, and knowledge. He was just a bloody door here. A piece of furniture.

Harry Potter _has_ built himself a throne-room, and everyone in it felt it, but Severus didn’t think Shacklebolt and Smith (and many others afterward) would ever consciously be able to figure out _why_.

His thoughts were confirmed a moment later when Harry put the parchment and quill back in the drawer, wandlessly and non-verbally summoned a tray with tea to the table, and started to speak politely.

“May I offer you a cup of tea, gentlemen?” he offered, and after hearing their agreement, filled their cups, not once glancing at them. Then he stood up and looked at Snape. “Severus? Another cup?” he asked, lifting the teapot up, and smiling a bit. Severus didn’t want it, but nodded nonetheless, not wishing to break Harry’s game.

Potter came closer and poured him a fresh cup of tea, placing a small plate with cookies on the coffee table, then nodded on Snape’s quiet ‘thank you’, and slowly got back to his own seat, leaving Severus to his book.

With this little display, he let everyone know their places on the hierarchy in this room, as if it wasn’t obvious before and identified Snape’s special position in it. Sneaky bastard.

Smith put his cup down on the table and took a roll of parchment and a quill out of his bag.

“A self-writing quill?” asked Potter, glancing at the object.

“Yes,” replied the reporter, stopping his preparations at once. “Do you mind?”

“No, not at all.” Harry steepled his fingers on the desk and continued, “Before we begin though, I want to point out a few conditions.”

Smith nodded, confused.

“First of all, I do not know if Kingsley told you, but I would like you to give me a wand oath that not a single word I’m about to say would be altered without my knowledge and permission.”

The room was silent for several seconds, while Smith fought with his own astonishment and eyebrows that just didn’t want to get back down to their place. Harry waited patiently.

Shacklebolt cleared his throat. “Jim,” he called quietly. “It is important.”

“Can I refuse?” asked Smith after a long while, looking at Potter.

“Of course, you can.”

“But then you’ll cancel the interview.”

“Yes,” said Harry simply. He understood how important this chance was for the reporter. It was his star hour, his whole career depended on today.

That was one of the reasons why Potter asked to be interviewed by someone from the back lines.

“But our readers have to —”

“I do not think you fully comprehend the situation we are in, Mr. Smith,” said Harry, leaning forward and looking intently at the man. “I have paid my duties to the wizarding world. I do not think I ever owed anything to it, not when I first got here, and certainly not now. Everything I’ve ever done was an act of goodwill. I do not _have_ to tell your _readers_ a thing, but I was going to anyway because it’s the right thing to do in this situation. And I did not choose your paper because I like it or have some respect for it. I chose it because it has a large audience and because Kingsley assured me that the history of my interactions with the Daily Prophet would not repeat itself this time. While I believe and trust him, I do not know you, and forgive me for taking every precaution to ensure that my message would be delivered as _I_ intend it. It is too important.”

Smith stared at Harry with wide eyes and then nodded slowly.

“Good. Glad you agree with me,” smiled Potter. “Now, condition number two. Whatever questions you’re planning to ask, make sure they’re not personal. I would not answer them.”

The reporter sighed, disappointed a bit, but didn’t argue. “Fine. I accept your conditions. Anything else?”

“No.”

Smith took his wand out and swore the required oath.

“Thank you,” smiled Harry.

“Yes, well, I did not have a choice, did I?” he sighed again. “Now can we begin?”

Potter dipped his head, gestured for Smith to start, and watched as the man's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. Smith tapped at the quill with his wand and it rose above the parchment, ready to write.

“Well, first of all, I want to thank you, Mr. Potter, for finally agreeing to talk to us. You have no idea what an honor it is to be in the same room with you, the Minister of Magic, and Severus Snape, and have the opportunity to at long last ask questions that worry us all."

"Please, Jim, call me Harry. And I think you're exaggerating quite a bit here. We're all only human beings, after all," chuckled Potter. 

"Oh no, I don't believe I am," smiled back Smith. "But let me ask you, why are we here? Why at Hogwarts? Do you live here?"

"No, I am not. But I will soon, I hope. I have an announcement to make if the Headmaster allows me…" he glanced at Severus for the confirmation, and Kingsley and Smith followed his gaze. Snape tore his eyes from the page he was pretending to read when he heard the pause and nodded his agreement.

"A remark for our readers," intervened Jim, "professor Snape just nodded, allowing Harry to say whatever it is he was about to say." 

"Right. As I’m sure you already know, Hogwarts welcomes back every student this year, including my year mates, allowing them to prepare for the NEWTs properly, without any pressure of the war on our shoulders. But, as I’m sure Kingsly can confirm, I will be taking my NEWTs next week. And as soon as I have the results, Severus invited me to take on the position of the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.”

The stunned silence that followed the statement was broken by Smith. “Such wonderful news!” he exclaimed. “I’m sure every existing and future Hogwarts student would welcome the opportunity to learn from the Harry Potter himself. But aren’t you worried about establishing your authority as a professor? I mean you’re the same age as your future students, you started Hogwarts with them, shared a common room and dormitory, sat with them at meals and in classes, and I’m sure spent many hours, berating your professors together. Don’t you think there’s a possibility that they would resent your sudden superiority?”

“First of all, I am not superior to anyone, and never will be. Being a professor does not make one person better or _superior_. It is simply a good opportunity for one to share their knowledge and experience with others. And I have quite a bit to share.”

“You’re right, of course. But still —”

“Wait, let me finish, please. You said something about my age.”

“Yes, You’re about to turn eighteen, as far as I know,” drawled Smith, confused again.

“You know wrong. This information is secret, and I am not allowed to divulge a lot, but it’s been driving me crazy for several years already. Now I don’t have to hide anymore, so here it is,” Harry sighed and cleared his throat. “During my entire tenure here as a student, I’ve been regularly using a Time-turner. I’ve lived those years twice, living and studying as a regular student, and spending the additional twenty-four hours each day helping Albus prepare and then fight a certain Dark Lord. I’m becoming twenty-five at the end of July, Jim.”

As soon as the self-writing quill finished scratching the last words, the room fell deadly silent. Harry, along with Kingsley and Severus who already knew that particular bit of news, watched the shocked reporter with amusement. Snape could only see Smith’s left side but it was enough for him to imagine the rest. And he couldn’t really blame the young man for it.

“Well…” Jim drawled, exhaling slowly. “That certainly changes things.” He sank lower in his chair.

“Yup, it certainly does. Do you see now why I’m not worried about the age of my future students?”

Smith barked a laugh. “That I do, Mr. Potter.”

He rubbed his face and sat straighter again. “I wondered when we entered the office, why Dumbledore’s portrait was here and not in the head office. I guess that’s why isn’t it?”

Harry shrugged and crossed his hands over his chest. “We were quite close with Albus for twelve years, Jim, and have a lot to catch up over the last two. One, in your case. When I agreed to take the position, I asked Severus if he’d allow me to have the portrait in my office, and he said yes. End of story.”

“Not to mention, it made things easier for him as well,” Smith nodded thoughtfully.

Severus’ head shot up at that and he prepared to say something when Harry cut him off with a glare.

“Pardon me?” asked Potter, raising an eyebrow at the red-haired journalist.

He looked up worriedly. “I did not mean to imply anything, Harry, professor,” Smith glanced at Snape quickly. “It just crossed my mind that… You know what they say about demons —”

“Do _you_ have demons, Mr. Smith?” Harry leaned forward, his voice barely above whispering.

The man shook his head. “Not really.”

“I thought so. Let me enlighten you. Getting your demons out of sight does not automatically get them out of your mind. Nothing ever will. They’re always with you, ‘till the very end.”

“You sound experienced.”

“I am,” agreed Harry, sitting back again and breaking the tension that filled the room. “But enough about that. Could we move on, please? We all still have work to do.”

Jim shook himself out of the daze. “Yes, yes, of course. Let’s speak about the war. How much can you tell our readers?”

“It depends on what your readers want to know. It’s been six years for me since Tom’s return, Jim. You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Uhh, okay. You said you’ve been helping Dumbledore since your first year. What did you do?”

“Up ‘till the end of my fourth year, I’ve mostly spent the additional time studying and training, to be honest. I also occasionally ran some errands for Albus and sometimes Severus, though he didn’t know about it, of course,” Harry smirked. “I gathered information, searched for things, kept an eye on things and certain people. Quite often Albus and I locked ourselves in his office and held long discussions about Riddle and his minions, analyzing events of the wizarding and muggle worlds alike, strategizing. When Tom came back things haven't changed for me much, except during those years I spent a bare minimum of time on training, instead secretly running errands for the Order members all over the globe.”

“But you were only a child back then. Surely you weren’t involved all that much in the beginning…”

“That is the point, Mr. Smith,” Harry gripped the arms of his chair, trying to decide how much he was willing to put out in the open. “I was never a child. The wizarding world, Albus Dumbledore, in particular, made sure of that, dumping me on my muggle relatives, who never understood, supported, or liked me much really. All that just so I’d be prepared to fight from the moment I enter Hogwarts. And I was.”

“Forgive me, this is a lot to take in. Were you… Were you mistreated by your relatives?” Jim asked cautiously.

“I never said that,” replied Potter, giving Jim a warning glare.

“But wait, how could an eleven-year-old run any errands? You should’ve had a skill-set quite a bit more extensive than that of a first-year.”

Harry smiled at that.

“Oh, that’s what you meant, saying that you have a lot to share with students?”

“Yes, that too,” confirmed Potter, still smiling.

“Could you give us an example of one of your usual errands?”

Harry inhaled, searching his brain for something suitable. “Hmm, let me think. Um, okay. During my third year, when the DADA professor was Remus Lupin, and Severus was forced to brew a Wolfsbane potion, there was one time when…” he trailed off and looked at Snape who already sat stunned by the realization of what Harry was talking about. “Severus, do you remember when all apothecaries suddenly ran out of powdered dragon claws because of some political misunderstanding with Romania?”

Snape nodded. Kingsley and Jim looked confused though, so Potter explained to them. “Powdered dragon claws is a rare and expensive ingredient because, in order for it to be usable, the claws should be taken from living breathing dragons. If the claws are harvested from dead dragons, they become highly toxic. Do you see the complications here?”

By this moment all three men were pale.

“So when Severus needed the powder for the next Lupin’s batch, and the apothecaries did not have it, Albus said to Severus that he has a friend that could help, and the next ten hours I spent in Romania, sneaking around, relieving as many dragons of their claws as I could, unsuspiciously. I was fifteen.”

Three astonished gazes shifted to the conveniently sleeping portrait.

“I wrote a letter to that Dumbledore’s friend, thanking him for the help,” drawled Snape, frowning and looking at Harry.

“Yes, and I received and read it,” he smiled in return. “Anyway, I did those kinda things before Tom’s resurrection, besides keeping an eye on all Death Eater kids and sometimes their families. In my fourth year, I kept an eye on Karkaroff and his marked mates as well. After the graveyard, I occupied myself mostly with making sure that Severus was alive and well; occasionally attending Death Eater meetings when they went on yet another raid that could not be prevented by the Order or when the Order simply did not have the opportunity to intervene, trying to minimize the damage and help everyone I could; and, of course, I still ran around the globe with the usual small tasks that had to be done in secret for one reason or the other,” Harry stopped, looking at the stunned reporter.

“Do you require an example of a normal Death Eater raid, Jim?” he asked.

Smith paled again and his eyes widened. He didn’t know what to say. 

“I’ll give you one. Without explicit details, so your readers wouldn’t be too shocked,” continued Harry with a calm voice, ignoring Snape’s and Shacklebolt’s uncomfortable glances and fidgets. “It was the autumn of 1997. September 19th, to be precise. Friday night. The raids always happened at night, you know, so all the ugliness, nakedness, and shame, and terror, and pain, and blood could stay hidden in the darkness. Plus the element of surprise, of course. And waiting. It is always the worst — to wait for everything to crash down to hell. The nagging feeling of inevitability of it. 

"I knew that raid was about to happen because since Dumbledore’s swan dive I’ve been attending all Death Eater meetings. Severus didn’t have the opportunity to share intelligence with the Order anymore, since he was no longer trusted by them, and he didn’t know I was still on his side, so I had to gather all the information by myself.”

 _“So that’s how he always knew when and how much I was hurt,”_ flashed through Snape’s mind. The new piece of a puzzle clicked in place. Back then Severus thought that he finally got crazy, because of the constant feeling of someone’s eyes on him during meetings. It was a relief to know that at least his sanity was intact.

“That time the target was a family of a muggle-born witch. A mother, a father, three children, grandparents, and a small dog. They were on the run, but were tracked down by the ministry because Miranda used a wand for some reason." 

Harry rubbed his face.

"It was a second raid of the week. The first one was ambushed by the Order on my tip. I knew the Death Eaters would be extremely vigilant and sadistic that night because of their previous failure. Their punishment was severe, after all. Tom even tortured to death one of his own in a fit of deranged uncontrolled fury. I knew I won't be able to do much if the family got caught, so I decided to risk it and tip them off beforehand. But it didn't work out in the end. They hesitated too long, wasted too much time on pointless bickering, therefore didn't manage to get far away. I followed them closely. Tried to conceal them —"

"But not too hard," said Kingsley suddenly. 

Severus watched how Harry's gaze turned cold as he regarded an older wizard, sitting stiffly in front of him. Fool… Didn't he understand? 

Potter glared at him for a long moment and turned away, replying to Smith instead. 

"Tom Riddle wanted to be immortal. He looked into the Dark arts and found a way to supposedly live forever. I would not tell you what exactly he did, but it drove him insane faster and faster with each day. Ron, Hermione, and I spent the most part of last year working on undoing what Tom had done, so he was mortal again. Yes, I could've easily saved that family, and many others, for that matter, but look at the big picture. What good would it have done? If Tom noticed that someone's constantly one step ahead, he would have panicked. Could you imagine what might've happened then? Riddle wasn't simply unstable, he was downright crazy. How long would it have taken for us to finish our mission then? How many hundreds instead of dozens of innocent people would have been cruelly murdered?"

Smith looked greenish. "What happened to the family?" he whispered. Shacklebolt didn't dare to speak again, sitting silently, scowling at the wall between windows. 

"What do you think?" Harry also whispered sadly. "It always started with the same pattern. With the dark mark in the sky, cold, and deadly silence. Then a woman's laugh followed. High and thin voice. They used a spell of their own invention that made identifying the source impossible. It was everywhere, echoing all around. Growing louder, getting closer. Then, and only then when the prey was running around in a frenzied state, did they step up from all sides at once. And when the victims realized they had nowhere to run, they started to beg. Plead for their lives. Which made our dear deranged Bella laugh even harder. And the playtime began.

"This time they _crucioed_ the entire family for a while, then made the older ones watch as they broke every bone one by one in one child's body, who died in the process; cut every inch of the other child, leaving him to bleed out; and then raped and beheaded the third. Grandfather died of a heart attack, grandmother was killed with _Avada Kedavra_. As were the parents. I suppose they wouldn't have been, if I hadn't spooked the Death Eaters away, feigning the Order attack. After they fled to join their master, I checked the second child. A thirteen-year-old boy. He was still alive but barely. I know some powerful healing magic, so I stabilized him as much as I could and shipped him off to St. Mungo. As far as I know, he lived but was obliviated. In an orphanage now, I presume."

"That was awful. It was worse than awful… I might actually be sick here," mumbled Smith and glanced at Snape, unsure. "Were you there?" he asked in a whisper.

Severus wasn't. He wheedled his way out of it by claiming that he had to be at school at the time. Voldemort expressed his displeasure but graciously allowed him to skip the raid. _"Maybe that was the reason why Harry chose it as an example,"_ he guessed. 

"No. No, I was at school at the time," said Snape, openly looking into Smith's eyes.

The man nodded thoughtfully. They sat in silence for a while. Potter sipped his tea. 

"I just… I always knew it must have been worse than I could imagine, but I never realized…" the reporter said and trailed off. 

"The war is not glorious battles, and shining medals, as it might seem from offices and safe houses, Jim. It is never as simple as black and white, despite our wishes or our beliefs. The real war is ugliness. And struggle. And a lot of pain. And impossible choices. And making wrong things for the right reasons, hoping that it brings the light side one tiny step closer to the victory, to the end of this hell. This is why I agreed to this interview and asked you to not change any of my words. I want people to know the truth and tell it to their kids. I want people to think twice, thrice, before they join the next supposed Dark Lord in the future. Hundreds of lives were ruined, thousands. What for?"

"I agree with you wholeheartedly, Harry, and promise to do my best in raising my future children right."

"Thank you, Jim. Do you have other questions?" 

"Ugh, yes, if I may. I know it is the hard topic, but I'm sure it would be prudent if our readers knew a little bit more about Headmaster Snape's involvement in all this —"

"If you want Severus' side of the story, you should ask him, Jim. It is not my place to tell it," Harry cut the man off. 

"Yes, of course, I'm not asking you to recite the events. It's just… Well, let's say after the professor's trial, there are numerous rumors running around. One of them is that you were aware of Dumbledore's looming death from the beginning. Is that true?" 

Harry inhaled loudly. He hated rumors. 

"Yes. Albus and I were on one of our trips to the significant locations for Tom's past when the old fool caught the nasty curse, despite his best judgment. It was in the summer of 1996."

"Which curse was it?" 

"The old, fast, and incurable one. It is called 'Nigrum Mortem'. The Black Death. If it wasn't for my — and afterward Severus' — quick actions, Albus Dumbledore would have died on the spot almost a year earlier."

"Well, I suppose we must thank you then." 

Harry raised an eyebrow. 

"For doing all you could to postpone the inevitable, I mean," added Smith hastily. 

Potter nodded. "Could we not discuss rumors, Jim? Please. I do not like to participate in such nonsense."

"Right. Of course. No problem. What can you tell us about the last battle?" 

"Nothing that wasn't already said by those who also fought it, really," Harry shrugged. "All accounts I've seen so far are truthful."

"So you _did_ die?" the man's eyes sparkled with curiosity. 

"You could say so, yes. But I'm not going to tell you anything about the _afterlife_ if that's what you intend to ask. I simply didn't reach it. Turned around halfway through the limbo, as one might call it. I don't really understand what happened there, and it's not my place to try. So I won't speculate, sorry," Potter smiled and the disappointment on Jim's face. 

"Don't worry, I understand," said the redhead. "Well then, on this mysterious note I must conduct our conversation tonight, Harry. Do you wish to say anything else?" 

"No, I said everything I wanted." 

"Gentlemen? Any words of wisdom for our readers?" he asked Severus and Kingsley. 

"I'm afraid there isn't much to add to what's been already said by Mr. Potter," replied Snape. 

"Yes, I agree with Severus on that," said Shacklebolt. 

"Fine, as you wish." 

He tapped the quill once more, and it dropped dead on the very long roll of parchment. Smith immediately started to gather his things into his bag. 

"Thank you. All of you," he said, looking around. "I'll add my farewells to the readers in the end as soon as I get to my office, and send the article to be printed right away. I think I can make it in time for tomorrow's issue. We'll make it a special addition if not, and send them away tomorrow evening."

He stopped his ranting and held out a hand to Harry, who shook it. 

"You don't have any idea what an honor it is to meet you. You're an incredible person, Mr. Potter. I hope you will consider me as your friend."

He then shook Snape's and Shacklebolt's hands, bowed his head slightly, and all but bolted through the door, mumbling something unintelligible. 

The three men stood in the middle of the office, looking at each other for a long moment.

"I suppose it went as well as it possibly could," boomed Kingsley's voice in the dead silence. "I should go too. Harry, I'll see you in my office tomorrow as planned. Good day to you both. It was nice to see you again, Severus. You should also drop by for tea once in a while." 

They said their goodbyes and Kingsley exited the room. 

The silence that he left behind was not nearly as comfortable as before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it was surprisingly hard to write at places… Can't imagine why.  
> So, tell me your thoughts!


	18. Shock

# Shock

Why didn’t he tell Smith to postpone publishing the interview for at least a day?

Ugh… Doesn't matter anymore, does it? What’s done is done.

Harry opened the door to the staffroom and instantly regretted that he didn’t arrive half an hour earlier. He was making last-minute changes and additions to the lesson plans and lost track of time. Should’ve rewound back a few hours one more time. Too late now.

The room was full. Severus stood at the head of a long table, skimming through some papers. McGonagall and Flitwick sat next to him, chatting amiably. Somewhere to the right, Slughorn stood laughing in the circle of other professors who looked at him rather strangely. Belcher sat in the middle of the table, staring at the wooden surface, Pomona Sprout next to her. Everything was relatively normal.

Until Harry walked into the room.

Snape lifted his gaze from papers and looked at Potter sympathetically, but quickly schooled his expression. “Professor Potter,” he greeted, smirking and dipping his head slightly. “I started to think you've decided not to join us today.”

The room fell deadly silent, all eyes on him.

 _“Oh, having fun, aren’t we?”_ But Harry didn’t mind. After the conversation about their shared experiences inside the Death Eaters circle that they had yesterday when Kingsley left, he was almost sure Severus would distance himself. So it was a pleasant development.

Harry smiled deliberately sweetly and tilted his head a bit. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he drawled and bowed his head slightly, “headmaster.”

He then walked to the table and took the nearest seat, which turned out to be the one opposite Snape.

Severus glanced around and sighed. “What are you waiting for, people? I do not wish to sit here all day.”

While everyone was taking their seats, Potter watched the headmaster. Amazing, how quickly Harry started to truly like and care for the older man. Of course, he always felt protective over him — he felt protective over every one of his charges — but he wasn't lying when he told Snape that he never really liked him before. And look at him now. He's spending an awfully large amount of time teaching Severus, instead of doing something useful and productive (like taking care of this new threat); he came back to the fucking school to help the man, wasting even more precious time on his would-be-students; he signed up for tolerating this fool Slughorn and the others; he publicly exposed some of his deepest secrets drawing attention from Severus to himself; he took Dumbledore's annoying portrait to his office and his life, though he swore not to see the old goat ever again. And somehow Harry was sure it was not the end. But, surprisingly, he did not mind. 

Potter switched his attention back to the present. Snape was nervous, Harry could tell. Just small subtle signs, but he was so used to read the man that he didn’t need words to know when something was wrong. His own shoulder didn’t bother him for quite some time now, though, so Harry was confident that whatever it was that worried Severus, it was personal. The most obvious reason was his interview, or rather the others' reaction to it, but it was hard to tell for sure at the moment.

“First of all, let me introduce to you our newest additions to the staff. I’m sure you all remember them. Professor Amanda Belcher agreed to take over the Muggle studies position, and Harry Potter would be our new, and I hope permanent, Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.”

Belcher nodded to everyone, blushing slightly. She was nervous too. What was with people today?

"Welcome to our ranks, Amanda, Harry," said McGonagall, smiling. "It's good to see you both. Severus, why didn't you tell us? Harry, I must say we're all still in shock since the morning news, you know."

Harry chuckled. "Straight to the point, professor." 

"Call me Minerva, Harry. You too, Amanda, of course. We're colleagues now, and potentially friends, I hope. We're all used to addressing each other by first names here."

Severus grimaced. 

"Sure, Minerva. Though, it's gonna be hard at the beginning," replied Belcher, throwing a hesitant little smile at the older woman.

"Yes, well, maybe we should get back to it later, and let the headmaster speak first?" said Potter, looking at Minerva pointedly. "We're wasting time." 

Severus smirked. "I'm afraid, Harry, nobody would be able to concentrate on any of my words until their curiosity is satisfied."

Harry took a deep breath and nodded resignedly. He leaned back and crossed his arms, mirroring Snape's posture. All that he _wanted_ to say was already said yesterday, everything else — no one's business. Plus the risk of them spreading rumors was too big, and it was disturbing. But then again, maybe if he told them some things, the temptation to speculate would be considerably less great and the whole thing would die down a lot faster. But first… "There will be hell to pay if I catch any of you gossiping about this in public areas."

Everyone fell silent, glancing at each other. Slughorn snorted loudly and Harry raised an eyebrow at him. 

"If I were you, Horace, I'd take this seriously," said Snape, drawing all attention to himself. 

"My, Severus, you're talking like Harry's no less than Merlin himself! Besides, he's our protector, not our enemy, so I'm sure, whatever he has to say, we'll be perfectly safe," smiled Slughorn patronizingly. 

Snape sneered at the old potions master. "Suit yourself. You've been warned."

Harry cleared his throat. "I'm serious, guys. If you cannot keep secrets, you won't be privy to them." 

"But how is it a secret if you announced everything in the _Daily Prophet_ , my boy?" Slughorn just couldn't let it go, it seemed. He leaned forward, grabbing the edge of the table. 

"I didn't announce _everything_ in the _Daily Prophet_ , _Horace_ , for one simple reason: most of it is secret."

Harry forgot how much the old fool annoyed him over the two years he didn't see him. Especially this ridiculous grandfatherly _'my boy'_ ... He definitely was _not_ his boy. Albus Dumbledore did not get away with calling him that, and _Horace_ bloody _Slughorn_ isn't going to either. 

"Harry, don't listen to him," intervened McGonagall, shooting a stern glare at the Potions master. "We understand and won’t betray your confidence."

He looked carefully at the faces of his now-colleagues, searching for signs of potential dishonesty. 

“Fine then. Ask away.”

He still didn’t like it.

"Where did you get a time-turner?" asked McGonagall. "Did Albus give it to you? He never told me he had the second." 

Harry shifted on his seat. 

"He never told you a lot of things," he murmured, and McGonagall frowned slightly. 

Harry thought for a second if he wanted them to know. He didn't mind Minerva knowing, but the rest of the staff… And especially Belcher… It's not that Harry had something against the young woman, it's just that she was a complete stranger. 

Potter caught Snape's eyes. The man watched him intently, as if his life depended on Harry, and waited. Stupid man. Potter sighed… And reminded himself that he was here to help Severus. It wouldn't do to antagonize anyone. Snape probably would back up _him_ , and that would make things worse with the others.

"No one ever gave me any time-turners, Minerva. I am a time-turner myself. I can travel without it."

"That's not possible!" squeaked Flitwick. 

"I assure you, Filius, it very much is," said Severus. "I saw it myself." 

"But how?" exclaimed Sprout.

Harry's gaze traveled between his gobsmacked colleagues until it stopped on the herbology professor.

“Pomona, If you want me to explain how exactly it works, I’m afraid I cannot do that. It’s a bit complicated. We'll be stuck here forever.”

Snape snorted quietly and Minerva threw a suspicious glance at him. 

"No, I meant… How could it be? I personally have never heard about it." 

"There are a lot of things almost no one has heard of. Doesn't mean they don't exist."

"Things like what?" It was McGonagall this time. 

Harry exhaled slowly. "Like the magical art I've been utilizing since I was five. Don't ask me about its name, I don't know it. Basically, I'm using my magic straight from the source. Without wands or some such nonsense. It allows me to better attune to myself and my surroundings, therefore I have better control of things. I was able to do most of the school curriculum up to the seventh year, excluding potions, herbology, and care for magical creatures, of course, before I even got here. If Hagrid didn't show up when he did, I wouldn't even attend Hogwarts."

"Well, o' course, yeh wouldn't!" exclaimed the half-giant, smiling proudly for some reason. "Yer haven't got yeh letter then yet!" 

Harry looked at the man apologetically. "No, Hagrid, it's not that. Truth be told, I read the very first letter. I just didn't want to go here."

Hagrid’s face fell. “But yer were such a nice boy, so happy when I told yeh 'bout magic. An' yer already knew? So yeh… Yeh lied to me? Harry, but I thought we were friends!”

“Sorry,” said Harry quietly. “You have to understand, I had a… Well, I had a tough childhood. I never cared for other people, I never liked other people, I never needed other people, I never wanted to be around other people. It was always me and my magic, and that was enough.”

Potter glanced around the room again to gather everyone’s reactions to his little confession.

A shadow of a strange emotion flashed on Snape's face for a brief moment. “So you’re a sociopath?” the headmaster asked, his voice thoughtful and barely above whispering. 

“I was back then, I suppose, yes. But since I do care for several people now, it’s not completely true anymore,” replied Harry looking right into Severus’ eyes. Thankfully, the man got the message and nodded the tiniest of nods, relaxing again.

No one said anything about Harry's childhood, and the man was grateful for that. 

"That family that you told the journalist about," hesitantly asked Belcher after a few moments of silence, "was it the Claytons?"

Harry shot a long gaze to the woman and then nodded. "Did you know them?" 

Belcher covered her face, trembling. Crying. Harry hated tears. Amanda's muffled sobs filled the otherwise frozen room, making everyone really awkward. Sprout placed a hand on the woman's shoulder and squeezed it gently. 

"Sophie was my father's half-sister," whispered Belcher after a full minute. She looked at Potter with pain in her eyes. "Who was raped? Was it Rosalie? It was, wasn't it?" Another heartbreaking sob ripped out of her. "And where can I find Tommy? Why has no one told me he's alive before? Why did they do this to Miranda? Did she… How- How long did she… they…"

Harry just looked at her, sure as hell, this was _not_ a public discussion. Yes, it was the oldest girl — Rosalie — who was raped. She was about fifteen and very pretty. Very curvy for her age, which was the reason for her 'treatment'. As for the youngest, she was tortured by Bella, which meant that the reason for whatever the poor girl endured was pure _entertainment_. But Harry wasn't going to tell Belcher any of that.

Potter leaned on the table. This is precisely why he didn't like discussing the war. There was always someone who started crying. Wherever he went, there was always at least one victim or their relative. And the odds that he personally witnessed or even participated in the tragic event were too high. Maybe telling everyone wasn't such a bright idea, after all.

Potter shook his head. "It was quick. And I don't know anything about Tommy's current whereabouts. I suppose St. Mungo has to have a record." He sighed. "Amanda, I don't think it's a good idea to discuss this. You of all people do not need to know the particulars, believe me."

Anger flashed in the woman's eyes when she lifted her gaze at him. "And just who are _you_ to decide that?" she growled through gritted teeth. "You ain't God, Potter! You ain't Merlin!" She snapped and jumped to her feet, leaning towards Harry and pointing a finger at him, screamed at the top of her lungs, "You let my family die!"

Time froze. Every set of eyes was on them. McGonagall discreetly wiped a lone tear running down her cheek.

Harry calmly looked at the furious distraught woman. Stupid witch. That's why he generally did not like people, he remembered. They all thought he owed them something. 

"I'm not telling you the details. Not here and not now," he repeated simply, not breaking eye contact. "And you'll understand why once you're calm enough to think straight."

"Belcher," called Severus, taking a vial out of an inside pocket. "Take this. It's a calming draught. And then go get some rest. We'll discuss your curriculum tomorrow."

Not looking at anybody, Amanda stormed out of the room, and Severus sighed, putting the vial back. He silently monitored the woman's movements through his connection to the castle to make sure she didn't do anything stupid.

The silence felt heavy.

"Did you know?" quietly asked McGonagall, looking at Potter with sorrow in the eyes. Harry raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Did you know it was her family?" 

"What? Of course, I didn't. I do _not_ know everyone in this bloody country, Minerva," he replied, his face impassive as a stone. "...nor have ever wanted to," added Potter under his breath.

"If you're quite finished discussing what a notorious monster your blessed Chosen One turned out to be, maybe we should get back to the point of this meeting?" drawled Snape, and all eyes snapped at him, some of them angry. "Past is past. No one can change anything. We're wasting time."

When no one replied, Severus continued. 

"Splendid. Now, Minerva. Have any replies from any of the eight years come?" 

The woman cleared her throat. "Um, yes. Of course. The Patil twins decided to drop school, and there wasn't any answer from Mr. Malfoy. Is he coming back?"

Minerva glanced at Severus expectantly who in his turn glanced at Harry. 

"Well, he's planning to," replied Potter, "but it's not clear yet, since he has to stand a trial first."

"Trial?" asked Pomona. "What for? As far as I remember, he didn't fight in the battle with the rest of them." 

"He didn't," agreed Harry, shrugging. "But he still has a Mark, so…"

"Well then," continued McGonagall, shifting through her notes, "if we count Mr. Malfoy, we'll have twenty returning students. Five Gryffindors: Weasley, Granger, Longbottom, Thomas, and Finnegan; five Slytherins: Malfoy, Zabini, Nott, Greengrass, and Davis; six Hufflepuffs: Abbott, Bones, Finch-Fletchly, McMillan, Jones, and Malone; and four Ravenclaws: Boot, Corner, Goldstein, and Cornfoot."

"Why the Patil twins won't come?" asked Flitwick, looking sad. 

McGonagall shot the short man a sympathetic glance. "They said they're leaving the country for a while." 

"I see," nodded Filius, momentarily getting lost in thoughts. He did have this little habit, which annoyed Harry frequently. 

Severus started to speak again as soon as he finished writing the last name down on a spare piece of parchment. "I want all of you to keep a close eye on those students. Almost all of them were present in the battle and most likely will have PTSD in some form. It's our duty to help them."

His eyes dimmed suddenly. 

"Actually, all our returning students are likely to have it, especially the younger ones. Last year was tough for all of us, but for them, it was a nightmare. We'll need to restore their faith in us as their protectors. We'll need to restore their faith in school. Convince them once again that this castle is the safest place in the world, which it truly is, with —"

"One moment, Severus," interrupted Slughorn, coughing in his hand. "What exactly is that 'PTSD' you mentioned?"

Half of the staff threw bewildered glances at the old man. Snape glared. 

"It is Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, as muggles call it, Horace. A psychological thing," replied Minerva before Snape blew up. "We all probably have it too, to some degree."

The deputy fell quiet for a moment and then added, "Maybe there's a point in hiring a proper psychologist or a mind healer, what do you think, Severus?" 

"Yes, I agree. We'll discuss this at the nearest Board meeting," agreed Snape and took a deep breath. 

"As I was saying, those twenty students are likely to be the worst cases, and, no matter if the Board will or will not agree to fund a new staff position, we'll need to ensure that they are all comfortable. _Even_ Slytherins," he pointed out. "Heads of houses, make sure they know that they can come to you at any time and receive _actual_ _help_."

The four professors nodded their agreement.

"Harry, you too. They will most likely continue to see you as their peer, therefore might come to you first. I'm not saying you should act as a psychologist for them, merely to be a friendly ear if and when possible." 

"Sure. Don't worry about it."

"Any concerns or questions so far? If not, we'll get back to it at a later date," finished Severus and paused for a few moments to give his colleagues time to ponder the information. 

"What about Amanda?" asked Pomona. 

"What about her?" 

"Well, she's obviously in no state of mind to face students right now, and…" 

"Then it's a good thing that she won't have to worry about teaching for over two months yet," sneered Snape and then sighed. "I'll talk to her tomorrow. If she needs help, she'll get it."

"An' Harry too, o' course," added Hagrid suddenly. 

Potter let out a slow breath. Great, now they consider him a mental case. 

"I'm alright, Hagrid, don't worry about it. I have my own mind healer," he smirked. 

"Who?" asked McGonagall. "Is that healer of yours any good? Maybe we don't have to look for anybody." 

Harry barked a laugh. "No, Minerva, I'm afraid it won't work." 

"Why not?" 

"Because he meant himself," replied Severus instead, also smirking at McGonagall's expression, amused. "Now, if that is all, let's move on to our next topic —"

"Wait for a second," said Minerva, "I don't think it's the right way to do that. I mean, healing yourself physically is possible of course, but not recommended, and mentally… Harry, are you sure about it? I don't say that you have to see a physiologist, but you never know, maybe it _will_ do you some good."

"I sincerely doubt it," replied Potter, trying hard to keep his voice neutral. He was on the brink of snapping. Harry did not like it when people meddle into his own private affairs, no matter how much worried they may be. "I'm controlling my mind, professor, not the other way around. And I know it perfectly. Better than any of the psychologists that you may set on me could ever dream of."

"But, Harry —" 

"No." 

"Just think about it, that's all I'm saying." 

Potter watched the older woman with a stubborn gleam in his eyes but said nothing. Thankfully, she dropped the subject.

"Now may we please continue?" exasperatingly asked Severus. "If you two are done, of course."

His words were met with silence, and Snape finally was able to move on with the meeting.

— - ♦ - —

**_4 Privet Drive, same day_ **

This was dull… It was worse than in hiding, thought Dudley, standing near the window in his room. He very rarely left his room these days. Not because he was forbidden to, no, he just didn't want to see his parents. Dudley gave up trying not to hear them weeks ago, it was simply impossible, so loud they were. It seemed that since the morning when that McGonagall lady showed up on their doorstep, the older Dursleys haven't stopped screaming at each other for even an hour.

It was so bad that Dudley was glad they were getting a divorce. Maybe _then_ he would get some peace.

Or maybe he could run away to his girlfriend and stay with her in the magical world where she'd be considered of age in a few days. That way he'd get to be with her, and he'd be able to contact Harry again. This was important because Dudley needed to know if his parents were legally pursued; he still worried about them, even if they were unbearable right now. And even if he kind of hated his dad at the moment.

The sunny street outside was full of neighborhood kids. They all laughed, and played, and did all kinds of the usual stuff that kids do, and seemed so annoyingly happy in general, that Dudley hurriedly turned away from the window. But as he did so, with the corner of his eye he noticed in the distance a small figure of an old lady slowly walking on the street towards Wisteria Walk. 

He knew that woman since he could remember himself, but never close. Harry knew her a lot better, with how much time he spent in her house and all. Arabella Figg was another person on the long list of people Dudley was mistreating for years. His ears burned with shame just remembering how many times he and his little gang played pranks on her — sometimes pretty nasty ones. She never fought back or even acknowledged that it bothered her, though, and it encouraged them to try harder. Poor woman. 

When has he grown such a conscience? 

Absentmindedly scratching the cast on his right arm, Dudley sat on the bed. There was something odd about Mrs. Figg. He couldn't point a finger at it but was certain that he's right. 

She was there _that_ night. The night when he was attacked by some invisible force, and when his whole life suddenly turned upside down. What if she's… 

_No…_

No, that couldn't be.

It just couldn't, right? 

This little old lady _could not_ be a witch. It would be too perfect. Well, relatively speaking. Dudley wasn't sure she'd want to talk to him if she was. After all, she _saw_ how the Dursleys — him included — treated Harry over the years. 

Dudley jumped to his feet. He had nothing to lose either way, and judging by the rare silence that has befallen the house, his parents were cooling down from another fight with each other, which meant that dad most likely stormed to the shed in the garden and pretended to work or clean it, and mom locked herself in the kitchen, cooking. The coast was clear.

Slowly and as quietly as he could, Dudley crept through the house and shut the front door behind him. Deciding to stick to the safe side, he strode the opposite way of Wisteria Walk, all around the nearest streets, simply to avoid getting spotted from the kitchen window. 

Twenty minutes later, Dudley found himself on the doorstep of number 10, trying and failing to muster the courage to knock. _"It's just Mrs. Figg,"_ he scolded himself. _"You knew her for years. She's kind. And she's harmless."_ Except maybe she wasn't. If Dudley was right, then Arabella Figg was a force to be reckoned with, at least in his case. He couldn't tell for other wizards and witches.

After a very long moment, Dudley took a deep calming breath (the way Amy has taught him) and raised his good hand to the plain white door, but at this moment it swung open, revealing a frowning Mrs. Figg with one of her countless cats in her hands.

"Are you going to stand here all day, boy?" she asked, not at all surprised to see him.

Dudley’s eyes nearly fell out of the sockets. "Um… I…"

"Come inside quickly. It's not safe to loiter on my porch, especially for you."

The woman ushered him through the hall into the living room and pointed to the very long and very old brown couch. The room was as simple and common as Dudley could possibly imagine. Nothing special or even remotely magical-looking. The only interesting thing was a big ornamental fireplace between two windows. The decor seemed so out of place that the boy couldn't turn his gaze away from it and stood in the middle of the room, gaping foolishly. Until Mrs. Figg cleared her throat right in front of him, that is. 

Waking up from his daydreaming, Dudley mumbled something resembling an apology and sat at the pointed spot on the couch. Mrs. Figg took the armchair opposite him, one of her cats immediately jumped on her lap and started purring loudly.

"So what can I do for you, Mr. Dursley?" she asked, gently stroking the soft fur of her familiar.

All words that Dudley rehearsed on the way here abruptly left his head, leaving behind an uncomfortable emptiness. 

"Um…" he tried to drag them back with little success. Suddenly Mrs. Figg’s words sprung in his mind. "What did you mean when you said about danger?" 

The old lady raised an eyebrow. "Really, Mr. Dursley? Aren't you the ones who just came out of hiding?" 

She knew.

Dudley swallowed hard and not knowing how else to go about it, whispered bluntly, "Are you a witch then?"

Mrs. Figg measured him with a long piercing look for exactly twelve seconds (Dudley counted) and then broke with laughter. Her head rolling back, and hands clasping her stomach, and all that. 

Dudley just stared at the grey woman, completely gobsmacked. And a little offended, to be honest. It must've shown on his face because after Mrs. Figg glanced at him, she quickly sobered and shook her head.

"Excuse me," she mumbled breathlessly, drying her eyes with a handkerchief. "No, Dudley, I am not." 

The boy's heart sank. 

"I am a squib," added Mrs. Figg. "It's people who were born from magical parents but have no magic themselves."

Dudley only nodded in response. So he was partly right. It was such a nice feeling, to be right for once. He even forgot his hurt pride. 

"So now, when we established that, what can I do for you, young man?" asked Mrs. Figg one more time.

Dudley shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know why I came," he confessed quietly, looking at the floor.

"Really?" 

"I wanted to apologize for everything I've done to you in the past," blurted the boy, still too ashamed to look at the old woman, therefore not noticing how high her eyebrows rose at that statement.

"I'm really sorry," he whispered, finally lifting his gaze to meet Mrs. Figg's eyes.

She regarded him for a long moment as if trying to determine how truthful he was. "You've changed. I noticed right away, but couldn't imagine how much."

"I… I know the truth now," nodded Dudley, fidgeting on his seat. 

"About?" 

"The war. The… The bad guy that Harry…finished off." 

He couldn't bring himself to say the name for some reason. Mrs. Figg stood up and walked to the desk in the far corner of the room, fished something that looked like a newspaper out of one of the drawers, and promptly returned to her seat, putting the _Daily Prophet_ on the coffee table between them. Dudley recognized the newspaper at once. Amy used to read it regularly, though he never understood why seeing how much she complained about the publishers not printing a word of truth in there afterward. 

"You mean _this_ truth?" asked Mrs. Figg, pointing at the large moving photo of his eleven-year-old cousin on the front page. Dudley remembered the day that picture must've been taken. September 1, 1991. Platform nine and three quarters. He saw it in the photos Amy showed him last year.

"What do you mean?" asked Dudley, confused. "I know about Harry…" 

"Have you read the article?"

He shook his head, and Mrs. Figg instantly turned sad and broken even. She pushed the paper closer to him and with a final dip of her head, went out of the room.

Dudley picked up the _Daily Prophet_ and turned the front page. 'THE MAN WHO…' said the headline. Intrigued, he started devouring the text.

And then wished he didn't. A few minutes later, after finishing the article, Dudley stared at the paper in his hands with his eyes wide and his mouth agape, frozen with shock. He didn't know what to think. Dudley never saw anyone die, let alone being tortured to death. The notion that his cousin was doing it for years almost on a daily basis was so foreign… Even though the boy knew every crazy story there was to know by now, courtesy of Amy’s endless excited chatting about them, _this_ was _not_ adventures. It was not remotely attractive, alluring, or mysterious. It was awful. Terrifying. Nauseating. And what if… No, he wouldn't think about it. Harry's not capable of killing anyone, is he? _Is he?_ The early childhood memories filled Dudley’s mind and he shuddered violently, nearly dropping the paper.

No, he _refused to think about it._

And another matter altogether… Harry announced to everyone that he was _not_ abused in the Dursley house, and Dudley had a hard time wrapping his mind around it too. He was so sure Harry would want revenge after everything that had been done to him… But he just dismissed the suggestion like it was nothing. Did it mean that his parents were safe? 

Mrs. Figg came back some time ago and sat at her armchair, looking at the boy intently but not saying a word. She pushed a cup in his direction. Dudley blinked at the sudden motion in front of him and glanced at the old woman.

"Do you know how I could contact Harry?" he asked with a hoarse voice and cleared his throat.

Mrs. Figg was silent for several seconds. "What happened to your arm?" There wasn't a trace of the usual warmth in her voice, and Dudley fidgeted uncomfortably. He had no wish to discuss _this_ particular topic. It was bad enough that he had to lie to everyone he encountered on the streets, saying that he fell from the stairs. Which he technically did, but not on his own volition. It happened _that_ day… Dudley didn't know how he got home, someone must've teleported him there, or whatever it's called. He woke up in his bed not long after he tried to leave Harry's place, and immediately went down to find his parents. But when his dad laid eyes on him, something went terribly wrong. He never saw the man so furious and in a moment of confusion wondered how Harry could stay so calm under _that_ gaze… And then it was too late because the next moment Vernon lashed out. He screeched, Petunia howled, arms and fists flying everywhere, landing in a few quite good punches. It was one giant blur. At some point, Dudley must've broken out of his father's deadly grip and tried to run to his room, but his feet suddenly lost contact with the solid ground, and he crashed down the stairs with the grace of the potato sack.

Everything went deathly silent then. 

And the next thing he remembered was excruciating pain where his right arm supposedly still was. Then was a river of blood, an ambulance, doctors, pain, pain, pain… Dudley couldn't remember much of what happened that day.

But he knew he didn't want to be near his dad right now and for quite some time in the future.

The boy looked at Mrs. Figg pleadingly. He really didn't want to get into this.

She didn't even blink. 

"I… I fell." 

"Fell?"

Obviously not convinced then. 

Another long silence. Dudley blushed furiously.

"Why do you need Harry?"

The untouched tea was slowly growing colder with each heartbeat while the boy thought about how to respond better. 

"I just want to talk to him. I didn't get a chance a few weeks back when I was in his house, and I wondered if he'd be willing to hear me out," he said finally, again staring at the wooden floor. There were five floorboards between the coffee table and the couch, three of them had small scratches all over, and one had a dark strangely shaped stain in the middle.

After what seemed like an eternity, Mrs. Figg stood up and went to the direction of the desk, opened and closed a drawer, then returned and stood quietly waiting for Dudley to look at her. 

When he mustered the courage to do that, he saw that she held a piece of paper and a pen in her hands. Dudley’s heart jumped and flipped. He couldn't comprehend his own feelings. Apparently, he passed the test and was given a chance, however slim. 

He didn't know if he should be overjoyed or horrified at the prospect. This 'new' Harry that he just discovered in the article was a truly formidable man, a lot older and stronger than him.

After a moment of hesitation, Dudley took the offered paper, placed it on the table, and slowly scrabbled a short letter. Bending to the table was uncomfortable, as was writing with his left hand, but he didn't complain.

Ten minutes later the letter was finished, folded, sealed in the envelope, and sent with the owl through one of the windows to the backyard.

Dudley only hoped that the bird would find his cousin and that Harry would not refuse him.

Mrs. Figg also seemed a bit friendlier afterward. They sat and chatted amiably for over an hour, drinking tea and eating biscuits. She answered some of Dudley’s questions that Amy wasn't able to for various reasons. He told her about his girlfriend, and how she opened his eyes. The boy parted with Mrs. Figg with a pleasant feeling that he just might have found a new friend. 

As oddly as it sounds.


	19. In for a penny…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so sorry for such a long delay, guys... I truly am.

## In for a penny…

"BECAUSE YOU'VE BASICALLY ANNOUNCED TO THE WHOLE COUNTRY THAT YOU ARE A _MURDERER_ , POTTER!" bellowed Kingsley in his office. "You were supposed to consult with me before releasing those sorts of things in the bloody _Prophet_!" 

"Why? How does _me_ being a murderer concern _you_?" 

Shacklebolt plopped into his chair and rubbed his face with his hands, sighing tiredly. "Do not pretend to be daft, Potter. We both know _how_ that concerns me. You're a person number one in the country. _Literally_ everyone is dissecting your every move and every word under the microscope. You're a fucking hero, so for Merlin's sake, just ACT LIKE ONE!"

Harry straightened in his chair and measured Kingsley with a frosty glare, reminding him that it was _not_ Harry's choice. That seemed to work, as the man shut up instantly and turned away, looking at the fake sun in the fake window on the wall in his office for a minute.

"Harry, you know as well as I do that now the Ministry will have to investigate this matter," continued the minister quietly. "You are going to face charges, stand a trial if they find something." 

"They won't," replied Harry. “You’re exaggerating, you know. I did not say a word about killing anyone. I said that I helped everyone I could. And ‘murder’ isn’t the first thing that comes into mind when someone talks about helping others.”

“It was when I watched you telling about that family yesterday.”

Potter snorted. “Thank you so much for that,” he drawled. But Kingsley wasn’t smiling.

“Did you kill anyone?” asked the man in a grave voice. “Did you kill any of them?”

Harry’s good mood evaporated as he locked gazes with the minister. Truth be told, he _did_. He did kill people, and not all of them were mercy killings of helpless crashed victims like the Claytons were. But if Kingsley suspected — and rightly so — about the first, he knew nothing about the rest of it, and Harry was content it stayed that way.

“Take a wild guess,” he replied simply, not confirming, nor denying anything.

It seemed to be enough for Shacklebolt, though.

He rose from his chair and leaned on the desk. "You're not above the law, Potter. You can't just do whatever you wish. And as much as I want to just close my eyes and pretend that nothing has happened, I can't," the man said sternly. All his appearance at that moment screamed authority.

Harry's eyes hardened as he also got up and leaned at the opposite side of the table, his face only several inches from Kingsley’s. "That is _exactly_ why I chose to reveal what I did," he growled. "So that _no one_ would be able to _close their eyes_ _and pretend that nothing has happened_."

Shacklebolt was able to hold the bone-chilling glare for about ten seconds and then dropped his eyes. Only now he finally fully realized just _who_ was standing in front of him. And why Snape behaved so oddly these days. Felt the weight of Potter's personality, of his strength, and his willpower. 

He suddenly felt very small.

Sighing deeply, Kingsley sat back on his chair. 

"You're right," he half-whispered after a long moment, still not looking at Potter but feeling the man's heavy gaze burning holes in him. "Of course, you're right, Harry, but that doesn't make the situation any better."

"No, it doesn't," Potter relaxed and sat down as well, leaning on the back of his soft chair. "But you won't be dealing with it alone. It's me they're going to hate — potentially — not you or the ministry."

For several minutes after that, the only sound in the room was the old clock ticking on the wall. Harry thought it was strange that the minister of magic had a muggle clock at first, but Kingsley explained that he liked them for their simplicity and usefulness. It was hard to argue with that, so Harry only nodded his understanding and, thus, the subject was closed.

Not wishing to break Shacklebolt's train of thoughts, Harry sat silently, absentmindedly staring at the wall behind the minister. It was painted light-beige, completely smooth and neutral, faceless. No paintings, no shelves, no cabinets, nothing. Just a large room with a long T-shaped dark wooden desk, surrounded by dozen of matching chairs, two heavily warded doors (one leading out of the office and another to a cupboard, or a closet, or a storage room of sorts, Harry supposed), two big windows, draped with beige light curtains, and a few plants here and there to make the place seem less indifferent.

How Kingsley was managing to sit here all day every day and not go mad, Harry did not understand.

"We'll drown here in angry letters tomorrow morning, I hope you realize this," said Kingsley resolutely, finally tearing the comfortable blanket of silence with his deep voice. "What do you propose we do?"

"Burn them," smirked Potter, making Shacklebolt look at him incredibly. "Honestly, Kingsley. Do you wish to make a difference or just sit here, nice and comfy? People need to know how the wars are won and how much blood there is on their heroes' hands. Otherwise, it wouldn't be too long until we have the next dark lord to deal with."

The minister sighed. "How about some coffee? I know a nice muggle place nearby. I need to talk to you about a few more things." 

Harry agreed, and after Kingsley transfigured his robes into proper muggle clothing, the two of them quickly exited the sterile office, leading their way to the sunny London.

"Seriously though," said Harry while they were slowly strolling on the busy street. "Could you send me those letters if they come?" 

Kingsley looked at him as if Harry suddenly went barking mad. "You aren't planning on reading and answering all of them, are you? There might be hundreds of them, thousands."

Potter shrugged. "I don't know. No, most likely not. I just want to monitor the general reaction."

They fell silent for a while. 

"You are serious," the minister suddenly chimed in Harry's thoughts. "About making the difference."

"I do not joke about those things." 

Shacklebolt eyed his younger companion for a second and then shifted the conversation to Harry's exams next week, Draco's upcoming trial, and Malfoy Sr's case. Kingsley also notified Potter about his and Snape's official interviews concerning it that will take place Monday afternoon right after Harry's first exam. 

— - ♦ - —

_"You're a stupid man, Severus,"_ Snape scolded himself, standing in front of the closed door to Harry's empty office. He should've just sent an elf and be done with it, but he was so preoccupied with thoughts about today's meeting and damned Belcher, that it simply didn't cross his mind.

And the blasted book wasn't even that important, he could've just left it where it was and then ask Harry to bring it later. But he was _right here_ already, damn it! 

Severus hated himself. 

"Severus?" 

He swirled around and threw a dark glance at McGonagall who stood a few feet away and eyed him strangely. "What are you doing?" she asked. 

Snape took a deep breath and returned his gaze to the door. "I forgot a book there yesterday," replied the man quietly.

Minerva just watched him, confused, but then it dawned at her, and Severus heard the woman gasp softly.

She cleared her throat and said: "I can retrieve it for you if you'd like. Which book is it exactly?" McGonagall added and moved to the door.

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm perfectly capable of doing it myself, thank you," Snape snapped sarcastically, not looking at his colleague, turned the doorknob, pushing the door open, and then stepped inside.

It was quiet. Sun streamed through the windows, leaving yellow squares on the desk and the carpet. The door broke the stillness of the air with its sudden movement, causing the specks of dust to swirl around, glittering on the light. Warm… It felt warm and welcoming, and for a moment Severus forgot why he had such a hard time going in, feeling even more stupid.

All of a sudden, a small note appeared right in front of him, making the man smirk.

_"Your book is in the top drawer on the left. HP"_

_"Of course, he knows,"_ thought Severus. He grabbed the piece of parchment and tucked it into an inside pocket of his robes. With a small smile still on his lips, the man walked to the desk and opened the pointed drawer, took the book out, and lifted his gaze. Two pairs of eyes were watching him with great interest, and his smile instantly turned into a scowl. 

"What is so bloody interesting, Minerva?" he asked her, ignoring the portrait. The woman just graced him with a smile of her own and walked into the room, looking around.

"I see you have overdone yourself, Severus. This is exceptionally nice. Can you redecorate my office too?" 

"I did no such thing, woman," snapped Snape, sensing the jibe. "It was all Harry, ask him."

"Really? Who could've thought," drawled Minerva. "Wait a moment. The entrance to this office was through the classroom." 

"Apparently, professor Potter decided that it didn't suit his needs."

"He changed it himself?" McGonagall's eyebrows shot up to her hairline. Any staff member could change the decor of all rooms in the castle, but changing the castle itself — adding and removing rooms, windows, doors, etc — only the current headmaster could do that. 

"Minerva, I've no idea how powerful Harry Potter is, but I think I wouldn't be wrong if I say that he has more control over Hogwarts than I am."

"Unbelievable… Oh!" she exclaimed, spotting a teapot and two empty cups that appeared on the coffee table a moment prior. "Have you ordered tea?" 

Severus snorted, glancing briefly at the table. "That would be Potter's doing, I'm sure. Cheeky bastard." 

The woman's eyes went wide.

"Let's go before he delivers anything else and makes us look like fools even more," said Snape and gestured to the door. Minerva obediently nodded and both of them walked towards the exit. However cozy might it be, Severus had no wish to stay here longer than necessary. At least not without Harry. 

"Severus," sounded from the right when the two professors were nearly in the corridor. 

Good mood evaporated. 

The man in question turned around and stared at the portrait, not knowing what to say.

"How are you, my boy? I haven't seen you lately."

Silence.

"I'm so glad you were able to overcome your differences with the young Harry. You know, he was always quite protective over you."

And Dumbledore smiled patronizingly. 

But when Snape still didn't reply, his eyes hardened just a bit. "He told you, didn't he?" asked Albus evenly, not a trace of the usual softness and kindness in his voice. "Well then, I just wanted to caution you, my boy. It may seem like he cares, but Harry Potter I knew was never able to truly care for anybody. In all six years, I have not seen him do even one completely selfless deed. His protection comes with a high price, my boy, as it always had. Whatever you think he's doing for you, make sure you can afford it."

Severus stood paralyzed. Minerva was trying to tug him away, angrily screaming something at the portrait, but Snape couldn't hear. Blood was heavily pounding in his ears, his heart racing. What if he's right? The old coot was the only one who knew Harry Potter at least to some extent. 

_"But_ I _know him too. . . Or do I? Don't be ridiculous. This is all just the old bastard's manipulations all over again. His revenge for shutting him out. Use your own bloody brain, you imbecile! There's no point for Potter to orchestrate anything. There's nothing for him to gain from me or this situation. Is there?"_

"Wake up, Severus!" shouted McGonagall right in the man's face. "Don't tell me you believe a word Dumbledore spewed just now." 

Snape took a deep breath and looked straight ahead, still lost in thoughts. They were slowly walking in the corridor towards his office.

"No! That cannot be! You know better than I do how much Harry did for you over the years, how much he's still doing. Severus," she added sternly. "Don't you dare listen to the old goat! He's lying his ass off. Harry _does_ care, I know that. I see that." 

Silence hung between them for a long time.

Severus knew she was right. He knew Dumbledore couldn't be trusted, especially with this. He wasn't going to do yet another foolish thing and push the only potential friend away because of something _Dumbledore_ said. It was completely out of question.

But Severus also couldn't get rid of that tiny shred of doubt that took place in his mind. Not in Harry, of course, he didn't doubt _Harry_ , he doubted himself. Or both.

And again: Snape hated himself. 

"Yes," said Severus finally. His voice was very quiet. "Yes, I know that. The question is _why_."

"Asphodelus," mumbled Snape to the gargoyle and glided past it to the moving staircase, with McGonagall still trailing behind.

"Does it matter?" she asked after a while. 

"What?" 

"One does not need a reason to care for the other." 

Severus opened the door to his office, walked in, and plopped into his chair before replying. "Even so, Minerva, Harry is a true Slytherin, and that is the way we are. We _must_ have a reason, and I'm sure he has one as well."

"Really? Slytherin? Because I seem to recall seeing him in _Gryffindor_ tower from time to time," she answered, chuckling.

"Yes, because he decided that _choosing_ Slytherin would be too much out of character for The-Boy-Who-Lived," sneered Snape, inhaling to continue his rant, but snapped his mouth shut when the floo illuminated. Draco's head appeared in the fireplace, immediately spotting the room occupants.

"Severus, professor McGonagall," he greeted them, nodding once. 

"How are you, Mr. Malfoy?" asked Minerva. The boy swallowed.

"I'm fine, thank you. How are you?" 

"Good. Good," nodded the old woman, actually glad to see Draco's improved state. She couldn't say that she cared for him as much as for her lions, but the boy had been through Hell no human being, especially a child, should.

"Is Harry here? Kreacher delivered about four hundred letters for him to the kitchen, and I don't know what to do with them."

Snape raised an eyebrow at the obvious lie.

"Draco, Kreacher delivers Harry's mail directly to his study." 

Malfoy actually blushed and dropped his gaze to the floor. "Fine. I was just bored out of my mind. You guys left and I have nothing to do and no one to talk to, so I decided to explore the house a bit."

A believable enough story, but Severus knew his godson for too many years to buy it. 

"Draco, step through, please," he said to the boy and then turned to Minerva: "Would you mind if I had a private conversation with Mr. Malfoy?" 

"Oh, of course. See you later, gentlemen. Severus, do not forget what we talked about just now." 

"I won't," sighed the man. 

Draco watched the two professors' exchange with curiosity before getting up from the floor to step through the floo to Snape's office. He had never been in the round room before and wondered if it looked the same previous years. But wisely kept his mouth shut about that. 

Severus pointed to a chair opposite him and Draco sat down, feeling less and less cheerful.

"I'm going to ask you once, and if I hear a lie, I will endeavor to find the answer myself. And _if I do_ , you know there will be consequences."

Horror crossed the blond's face, and Snape hurried to add, "Not _those_ consequences, you silly boy."

Draco inhaled and looked at his hands.

"What were you looking for in Potter's study, Draco?" asked Severus softly. He had an idea but didn't want to accuse his godson of anything without solid proof, therefore he waited patiently for the boy to speak. 

"I just wanted a book," said Draco after a long moment, glancing up. 

"There's a whole library of books in that house."

"I know, but they aren't…" 

"They aren't about the dark arts?" 

"No!" exclaimed Malfoy, but under Severus' questioning gaze mumbled, "Well, yes, but it's not how you think it is. It's not really on dark magic. My… My mother liked it. She had the exact same copy. I… I saw it in Harry's study that first day and thought of her." He sighed. "I miss her you know… Don't you miss your mother?"

Honestly? He didn't know. 

"She died long before you were even planned, Draco." 

"I know, but still. She was your mom," repeated the blond, obviously confused. 

Snape leaned on the table on his elbows and stapled his fingers under his chin. He did not want to go into this… Not with his godson, not with anyone. His failed childhood was no one's business.

For a moment he wondered why it wasn't the subject of endless gossip that still waddled around, along with all those juicy stories about his love for Lily Potter. Harry had no idea how grateful Snape was for being asked to stay in the ex-headquarters and therefore being cut out of all that craziness. 

Draco watched him intently with hope burning in his eyes, and Severus inhaled deeply. There wouldn't be any peace whatsoever until Malfoy Jr satisfied his curiosity or Snape snapped and sent the boy away to pout someplace else. 

On the other hand, Draco was the only family Severus had left, even if in name only, and the boy already knew the story in general. What's the point in hiding? 

"She was…" the man sighed and rubbed his face before looking straight into Malfoy's eyes. "I had two mothers growing up, Draco. One was the real woman, utterly destroyed by her husband's abuse and almost completely indifferent to everything, including her son, and the other — a fantasy of mine. A mother that I wanted to have. And though I always did whatever I could to protect Eileen and had a hard time dealing with her untimely demise, looking back now, I realize that it's not her that I really miss, but the fantasy that died with her.

"I cannot help you with this, Draco. The only real loss I have ever experienced was Lily, but that was a long time ago and completely different," added the man sincerely, for the first time in his life admitting that aloud to another human being. 

Draco looked confused. "Who's Lily?" Snape's eyes shot up and the blond fidgeted uncomfortably under the sudden intense gaze.

Severus wasn't prepared for that. He sincerely thought that the whole bloody world knew who's Lily by now. But then it struck him… Draco was in no condition to gossip back then.

He felt trapped.

He swallowed hard. "Just a friend," he said, pleading silently for the boy to drop the subject. Severus wasn't at all ready to discuss her.

The moment stretched painfully. When Draco just nodded, apparently accepting the answer, Snape relaxed and got back to the much safer subject of mothers:

"I know Narcissa had been buried already, but if it would help, we could go visit her grave, maybe have a funeral of sorts. Get you a closure."

Malfoy stared at his godfather for almost a minute, trying to think of something to say. Sure, logically Severus was right, and Draco really needed to start moving on at some point, but the boy's other completely irrational side screamed at him in fear to never ever go to his mother's grave because it would mean that he will have to face the reality of the situation. Narcissa Malfoy was dead. Brutally murdered by her own… He didn't know how to call the man now. Better not to call him anything at all, Draco figured. The fear won. 

"I don't know…" he admitted honestly, shaking his head. "I don't know if I can, sorry."

Severus just shrugged. "Don't be. It's normal to feel frightened by all this. We'll go when you're ready." 

Malfoy's shoulders sagged when he relaxed on his seat and nodded. "Thank you." 

Severus also leaned back. "Don't mention it. Now, back to the original point. Does that book have a name?"

"It's… It's 'The lost arts: condemned for the condemned', sir. Mother used to re-read it quite often, she even quoted a few things from it to me in the last couple of years."

Severus snorted humorlessly. What was the woman thinking, even showing that book to a child, let alone quoting from it? Unbelievable.

"I cannot let you have it, Draco. This book is hidden behind wards for a reason, you know. It's not on the darkest of magic per se, but the contents are quite twisted and at times even repulsive. It seems to speak the unspoken truth, answer the most avoided uncomfortable questions, which makes the book alluring to the untried minds, addictive even in some cases. Frankly, I'm not surprised that Narcissa was fascinated by it, or if it suddenly turned out that that book was the reason for your mother's liking of the dark magic. But no matter what she thought or planned, I will not let _you_ have it."

"But you're letting Harry have it!" exclaimed Draco like a petulant child. The injustice of it all!

"He's a grown man. And I am not responsible for him," calmly replied Snape. "I'm responsible for you. Besides, it's too late for Harry Potter to fight the darkness within him, for you, though, it is not. Not if I can help it."

"I'm of age," stubbornly stated Draco, a spark of a challenge dancing in his eyes like in the old days. Severus liked that change. He leaned forward and, trying not to scowl too much, simply repeated for the third time: "You cannot have it."

It was a fight Draco knew he had low chances of winning, but he wasn't going to give up that easily. The blond couldn't understand what the big deal was — as if he never read a word about dark arts — and usually, he wouldn't care all that much, but this particular rejection really hurt. It was the only thing he had that reminded him of his lost mother in a good way. "Listen, it's not like I'm planning on becoming the new Dark Lord, I just want to have a good memory among all those shitty ones, that's all. When I saw that book, I remembered how she used to always smile at me, not how empty her eyes were as her dead crippled body lay outside of my cage… Just out of reach," added Draco in a whisper to no one, looking at his lap.

Severus knew the feeling, and his heart tightened with sympathy for the young boy in front of him. 

"I know what it's like, Draco, far better than you can imagine. But it won't change my mind about 'The lost arts'. You can ask Harry, and he will tell you the exact same thing." 

Malfoy nodded in defeat and got up. Snape watched the retreating scrawny figure of his godson silently. _"Maybe there is a way…"_ he thought. 

"If you want a memory, Draco," Severus said before the boy reached for the floo powder, "we could go to your manor and collect anything you like."

Malfoy froze in place. _That_ crossed his mind too, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to set foot there ever again. Even thoughts about his previous home gave the blond creeps. He turned his head around to look at Snape. "I'll consider it," said Draco and vanished in the green flames.

— - ♦ - —

That evening Harry sat at his study at 12 Grimmauld Place in front of an enormous pile of letters spread out on his desk and quickly scanned yet another page filled with godawful handwriting. So far he hasn't encountered a single angry letter, only desperate pleads and endless questions. 

_…my sister disappeared in March…_

_…Mr. Potter, would you be so kind as to tell me what you know about my poor mum…_

_…my daughter and her family vanished in the middle of the night, please tell me you know what happened to them…_

_…my brother says that his son ran away, but I know my nephew was captured by Death Eaters…_

_…my father…_

_…my neighbors…_

_…When? What? Why? How?_

_…tell me, tell me, tell me…_

It's been only a twenty-ish envelope, but Harry already started to hate all those people. Unfortunately, he remembered all the names and witnessed some of the deaths. He couldn't decide whether he should answer them and what to say. Maybe he better discuss it with Kingsley first.

Harry reached to the pile without looking and grabbed the next envelope. And froze for a second when he saw the name on it. 

Dudley Dursley.

Now, what his dear cousin had to say to him?

Potter tore the envelope open and unfolded the list of paper. The letter was short and the handwriting was unfamiliar. Did he write with his left hand or something?

_Harry!_

_Sorry about the handwriting… My right hand is broken._

_Anyway… I wanted to talk to you. And apologize. I read today's_ _  
_ _article in the Daily Prophet, by the way. Mrs. Figg gave it to me._ _  
_ _And… I know you probably won’t care about this, but my parents_ _  
_ _are getting a divorce. Dad hates me now. So…thank you for at_ _  
_ _least not putting them in jail. I really need to talk to you._

 _You were so kind to us last year, sending us to a safe house_ _  
_ _and all. I know I don't deserve it, but please, Harry, be kind_ _  
_ _one more time and give me a chance to explain. Please._

_Dudley_

  
  


Well… That certainly was interesting. Incoherent, as per usual, but interesting. So Dudley has grown a conscience. Ha.

Harry sat simply smirking for a couple of moments, then put out a list of parchment, grabbed his favorite quill, and started to write an answer to his cousin when the door to the study opened and a smiling Ginny Weasley flew in.

Harry lifted his gaze and smiled back.

He didn’t date her because of some notorious Dumbledore’s plot as Severus assumed weeks ago. He genuinely liked that girl. She was mature for her age, definitely more mature than her peers, quite smart and insightful, kind, fierce, and not to mention good-looking. Harry didn’t plan on getting a girlfriend, to be honest, especially at that time, but at first, he got caught in the moment and then decided not to break Ginny’s heart. Besides, most of his year mates were dating at that point, and it was a good thing for his cover to join the club.

The problem was, Ginny did not know _him_ , she only ever knew the Boy-Who-Lived. Plus he would be her professor in about a week, and dating students was against school policy.

“Hi,” she breathed happily, going around the table. Harry stood up, hugged the girl, and kissed her briefly. Then he took her hand and led her to the armchairs at the opposite side of the room.

“How are things, _professor_?” asked Ginny playfully as soon as they both were comfortably seated.

Harry smiled. “Good. Good. Kingsley wasn’t too happy with me afterward for releasing some of the things without consulting him first, but in general — everything’s fine. Have your family read the article?”

The redhead snorted. “Of course they have. Mum’s furious, by the way. She said that if Dumbledore wouldn’t already be dead, she’d kill him now herself.”

Potter imagined the picture of Albus cowering before raging Molly Weasley and barked a laugh. That would’ve been really satisfying. About a decade ago.

“Dad was also shocked,” continued Ginny. “But he didn’t say much. Only that he wants to talk to you about something important. And mum invited you for dinner tonight.”

“Sure, why not,” agreed Harry, though the last thing he wanted at that moment was to endure the Weasley-interrogation. But better to take that out of the way as soon as possible.

“Should we go then? Everyone’s already waiting.”

“Ginny, there’s something I need to talk to you about first,” said Potter. Weasley nodded.

Harry took a deep breath. It would not be very pleasant. “Ginny, as you’ve pointed out, I’m gonna be a professor real soon.”

“Um… So?”

“Your professor. Unless you’re planning on dropping Defence, or worse — school, which I do not recommend you doing, it would be against Hogwarts rules for us to keep this going.”

Ginny stared at him with wide eyes. Harry could clearly see that what he said pained her, but sadly, there was no way to avoid it no matter how hard he’d try. “I’m so sorry,” he added quietly.

“You want to break up with me…” she whispered after half a minute. “Again.”

“I don’t. I _don’t_ want it, Ginny. And I’m not. I’m just saying let's leave things the way they are until you graduate. Take a pause. I don’t want to ruin your life, your reputation, or your chances of having a good career in the future. Besides, you need to get to know me first.”

The redhead looked like she was about to start crying, and Harry hurriedly turned away, got up, and walked to the window.

“I _do_ know you,” stubbornly stated the girl, coming to stand behind him and placing a hand between his shoulder blades. “I do know you, Harry. You may be older, and stronger, and smarter, and much tougher —”

“And darker.”

“— than I thought previously, but you’re still the same person. You’re the one who fought for us —”

“I didn’t want to.”

“— who suffered for us —”

“I did not have a choice,” Harry turned around and looked at his girlfriend.

Ginny stood with her mouth slightly open and obviously tried to find something else to say, but his replies to all her arguments seemed to take her off guard.

“I nearly killed the Dursleys several times when I was only seven. Always changed my mind at the last moment because if they’d be dead then I won’t have somebody to try all my skills on and generally have fun.”

Ginny’s eyes became even wider. “I… I’m sure they deserved it…” she mumbled.

“They did. I nearly killed Hagrid when he first found me because he appeared too suddenly, scared me a little.”

The redhead swallowed.

“I nearly killed Dumbledore when he tricked me into making an unbreakable vow because I hated his guts for it. Merlin knows I enjoyed every second of his squirming under my feet, of primal terror burning in his eyes when he realized that I would do it no matter if it kills me as well.”

Ginny’s shoulders sank and she took a step back unconsciously. 

“You’ve no idea who I am, girl. And what I did in this war and for this war. So like I said, it would be better if we take a break. I do care about you and have no wish to break your heart, Ginny. But you need to know what you’re getting yourself into. And maybe at the end of next June, it will turn out that you’re not so madly in love with me, after all.”

This time it was Ginny who turned away. She just couldn’t bring herself to look in the unfamiliar cold eyes and listen to all those horrors. What did they do to her poor sweet Harry? Her heart broke for him, then mended itself, and then broke again.

She knew he was different, of course, she knew. It was very hard to miss, actually. But Ginny couldn’t help it, she loved him since she walked out of the nappies. As a little girl, she used to dream about the famous Harry Potter, her prince who would one day come and take her away to his shining castle. Who would love her unconditionally from the first sight, cherish her, and make all her dreams come true.

So foolish… The castle turned out to be an old rustling house full of monsters, and the prince… The prince was dark as night, and cold as the death’s breath, illusive, deceitful, forbidding, unapproachable, and he did not love her at all.

Ginny felt it. Saw in his eyes. But at least he seemed to genuinely care for her, so, with hope still burning inside, the girl made a decision. She faced him again, sighed, and said:

“I get it, Harry. You’re right, let’s wait and see what happens.”

Potter dipped his head in response.

“And now let's go to the Burrow. The Weasley clan has gathered and waiting, you know,” smiled Ginny cheerfully, turned around and walked toward the door.

She had no idea about the sad smile that Harry bestowed at her, seeing her poorly hidden tears.


	20. New day — new body

## New day — new body

_**Friday, June 12, the Burrow** _

Harry apparited them to the edge of the wards around the Burrow. He could've gone straight through them, of course, since there wasn't much point in pretending that he couldn't anymore, but decided to give Ginny more time to compose herself before the inevitable. They walked to the front door, keeping a safe distance between each other. Harry glanced at his not quite ex-girlfriend. She looked sad but determined. It made his heart clench…such a brave little girl. And innocent. A frightening amount of people compared to him were innocent, especially the younger ones. And Harry couldn't bring himself to think of Ginny as an adult no matter how hard he tried. She was one of his charges for almost as long as he knew her. And she definitely deserved to have someone far better and easier than him. Letting her go was the right thing.

Harry opened the door, waited for Ginny to pass through, and then smiled when she nodded her thanks. The atmosphere inside the house was unusually quiet. Compared to the normal level of the sheer insanity of the Weasley household, that is. Everyone except Mrs. Weasley (who was flying around the kitchen, attending to various pots and pans with doubled ferocity) gathered at the dining table and conversed in hushed voices. Only George sat silently with the empty chair beside him and stared absentmindedly on his clasped hands.

When Harry and Ginny entered, everyone's attention instantly snapped on them, and the room fell silent. Ron, who noticed them first, smiled slightly and waved a hand in greeting. That seemed to break the spell. Mrs. Weasley was the first to recover from the collective stupor. In a second she was on Potter's side, hugging him fiercely, then throwing herself on Ginny. 

"Oh, my dear boy!.." Molly cried, releasing her daughter and looking at Harry with pity clearly written on the face. It was all he could do not to seem disgusted. "Aren't you looking so grown-up… I am so sorry you had to go through all of that. And alone! You could've said something to us, you know. We'd never betray your trust. Arthur, tell him!"

"Yes, yes, of course," nodded Mr. Weasley, also getting up and approaching Potter. "You were always like a son to us, Harry." 

And the kitchen suddenly fell silent again. George and Molly in particular looked like somebody punched them in the stomach. Potter glanced around, thinking about how to better phrase what he intended to say. Sighing, Harry motioned toward the table. "I think we should sit down first."

Mrs. Weasley's face stretched in a tight smile. "Yes, yes, of course, dear. Come on, Arthur, Ginny. Dinner is ready anyway." 

She flicked her wand and numerous dishes and jugs floated to the table, causing a commotion while ten pairs of hands piled food on their respective plates.

"Well, Harry," drawled Mr. Weasley, sticking a kind smile to his face. "How about you tell us everything?"

After a long silent pause during which Potter just looked pointedly at the older wizard, he leaned forward and a moment later a bottle of Ogden's appeared in his right hand seemingly from nowhere. Ron's eyes widened. "I'm afraid we'll need something stronger than pumpkin juice for this conversation." 

"Are you sure about that, son?" asked Mr. Weasley almost patronizingly. Almost. Harry frowned, but couldn't quite decide if it was because of the nickname or because of the tone with which it was said.

He raised an eyebrow and replied: "Absolutely, Arthur." Then, ignoring surprised gasps, Harry poured himself a glass and placed the bottle in the center of the table in case somebody else would want some. "So… What do you want to know?" 

Silence rang in the room for nearly a full minute. When nobody seemed to be even planning to move or speak, Potter took a deep breath and went on: "Alright. It's just gonna be me, talking, it seems. Straight to the point, then. Let's not pretend that we all don't know the reason for this gathering, so I won't circle around and about. First of all, Harry Potter you all know doesn't exist. It was just a cover story, the one I've been sick of maintaining for years. I am a completely different person and not a particularly nice one at that. So I don't expect you to like me," Harry bore a serious gaze at the elder Weasleys. "And I certainly don't expect you to call me 'son'. In fact, I'd really prefer you not to."

Molly started crying at that point, and Harry hastily averted his eyes to prevent himself from scowling at her, fighting to remember that she just lost a child. She kept silent for the most part, though, and for that Harry was grateful. Thank God for small mercies. He took a bite. 

"About the time-turner. Ron and Ginny already know this, and all the professors at Hogwarts know it too, so I think there won't be much harm in the rest of you knowing. At least if you promise to keep it to yourselves."

All Weasley's except the two youngest stared at him. 

"I really mean it, guys. There will be consequences if what I'm about to say becomes common knowledge, you know…"

Fleur glanced at Bill nervously, but her husband kept his eyes on Harry, frowning. As did Charlie and Percy. Ron looked down, picking at his food. George's gaze jumped between Harry and Ron. Ginny was looking anywhere but at Potter, obviously nervous too. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley just seemed confused, though. Molly even stopped crying. 

Harry swept his gaze around the kitchen, downed another glass of firewhiskey, and continued, ignoring the family: "That bit about the time-turner was also a lie, kind of. A public story. In reality, I didn't use any time-turners. I am one. As I said in the meeting at Grimmauld Place several weeks ago, the 'power the Dark Lord knows not' is literally power, or rather a specific way of using my magic, which allows me to better attune to it, to do things that you can't do with a wand. Or things that are hard to do with a wand. Time travel is one of them," Harry stopped talking, devouring his attention to the food instead, allowing everybody time to process the news and come up with questions. He didn't look up, pretending not to notice their whispers and heavy glances in his direction. The revelation was shocking, Harry knew that and tried to be patient. Those people were always nice to him, it wasn't their fault that Harry wasn't the person they thought him to be.

After Potter answered several typical "how's" and "why's", Arthur cleared his throat. "Khm, Harry… Um… About that article. You probably already heard dozens of these questions, but I wondered if I could ask you something about one of my coworkers."

There was so much hope in Mr. Weasley's eyes when Potter finally raised his own to meet the man's gaze. 

"Let me guess, he went missing?" 

"Well, yes —" 

"He's dead," Harry stated dead-pan.

"Who are you talking about?" asked Ron, chewing slowly. Arthur inhaled, preparing to answer, but Harry was faster. 

"Roger Bluebell, he was an undersecretary of the head of the Magical Law Enforcement. Went missing last December," Potter shrugged. Everybody stared.

"How do you know who dad's talking about?" Charlie voiced the question that was running through their minds.

"Because your dad and Bluebell were friends. Had lunch together every day, until the man went missing, of course. That's why the Death Eaters got interested in him, by the way. They thought he was a member of the Order.

"Before you ask, I don't know what exactly happened to him. I wasn't there. I know just that he's dead. Everybody who got captured and wasn't able to escape is dead." 

Arthur nodded vigorously and rubbed his face, trying to quell a wave of emotions. Molly placed a hand on her husband's shoulder and squeezed it gently but didn't say anything.

"Do you even care?" asked George after a very long pause. 

"What?" 

"You sound like you don't give a shit." 

"George! Language!" admonished Mrs. Weasley. 

"Who cares about language, mom? I'm bloody twenty years old!" he exclaimed, slamming his fork on the table. "I killed three people last month and maimed even more! How many did you kill? How many did your perfect little Ginny kill?"

Molly rose from the table so fast, her chair fell down with a loud bang, and then she stormed from the house, sobbing. Everyone froze, seemingly not daring to even breathe. Arthur also got up and followed his wife outside. Harry leaned on the back of his chair with his arms crossed and watched the family. Something wasn't right. Something was different.

"I'm sorry, Ginny," whispered George, looking guilty. "I didn't mean anything. I don't know what's gotten into me." 

The girl nodded, swiping a tear from her cheek. She took her half-empty plate to the sink, then retreated upstairs, still not saying a word. George signed. 

"Nice dinner," said Bill. "We should probably go too. It's not going to get any better." Fleur nodded, and both of them silently walked out of the house.

"I'll go check on Ginny," quietly said Ron. Nobody commented, just watched him ascending the stairs. In about five minutes the only occupants of the kitchen left were Harry and George. The remaining Weasley-twin sat still as a statue, looking on his plate again. There wasn't a single emotion on his face. As if he was half-dead, which probably was true, Harry thought. He couldn't imagine what such a loss would feel like…Fred and George were inseparable. Even their magic seemed to complement each other as if they were… 

Harry furrowed his brows and looked intently at the redhead. Could it be?

"George," he called quietly. "Can I ask you something?"

Weasley turned his head. "Sure." 

"Are you feeling any different? Magically speaking. Have you, all of a sudden, became any better at things that usually were Fred's forte?"

George thought for a moment. "Um… I don't know. Haven't noticed anything like that, really. Why?" 

"Your magical core has doubled." 

"Doubled?" asked Molly from the doorframe. "How's that even possible?" 

Harry turned around and followed Mrs. Weasley with his gaze as she strode through the kitchen toward her son with Arthur trailing behind her. "It usually isn't. But here we are nonetheless."

George sat up straighter. "And what does it mean?"

"I'm not sure, mind you," shrugged Potter, "it's just a theory. I suspect that since you and Fred essentially shared almost exactly the same magic and were identical twins, you were two parts of the whole quite literally. So when Fred died, his soul didn't go to wherever it was supposed to go, but merged with yours."

George oh so very slowly bulged his eyes as the meaning of Harry's words sank in. "Are you saying… Are you saying that he's living inside me?" he whispered.

"I'm saying that it's a possibility," replied Potter, but none of the Weasleys were listening. Molly started sobbing loudly and both she and Arthur hugged George so tightly, he could barely breathe but didn't seem to notice or care. The young man's eyes were light with burning fire and life for the first time since the battle.

"I still need to examine your core more closely, George, so —"

Ron's sudden loud stomping on stairs interrupted Harry mid-sentence. 

"YOU! YOU DUMPED GINNY!"

— - ♦ - —

_**Same evening, Hogwarts** _

After several minutes of consideration, Severus decided to return to Grimmauld Place and come back for Belcher's appointment with him tomorrow morning. Spending the night in his quarters at Hogwarts was probably more convenient and prudent but he simply couldn't do it. Memories of last year were too fresh, they jumped at him from every corner of the castle, seemingly not giving a flying fuck about Occlumency walls, any attempts at self-delusion and denial, or sometimes even about common sense.

Snape tossed a handful of floo powder in the cold hearth in his office, called his destination, and several seconds later stepped out of green flames in Potter's dark empty drawing-room. It was nearly eleven, and both Draco and Harry were nowhere to be seen. Severus went straight to his room, grabbed his nightclothes, and continued to the bathroom for a hot and considerably lengthy shower.

Half an hour later he sat on his bed with Potter's modified Dreamless sleep in his hands, staring at it. Severus couldn't get rid of Dumbledore's words that echoed in his head. _"…Make sure you can afford it…"_ Indeed. 

"Can I?" he asked quietly. _"There must be something he wants. Simply must be. But what?"_ Severus sighed, stood up and pulled the cover from his bed, then climbed under the blanket and took two gulps of the potion. _"And more importantly: would I be willing to pay?"_ was his last thought before sleep claimed him. 

Snape woke up at eight, quickly prepared for the day, and went downstairs for breakfast. Harry sat at the table absentmindedly stirring his coffee. When Severus entered, though, he looked up and smiled a little, nodding. 

"Morning, Headmaster." 

"Good morning," replied Snape, and then not giving himself time to show any signs of yesterday's thoughts and doubts that started to plague his mind all over again at the sight of Potter, sat down across from him, and continued: "How did the meeting with our esteemed minister go?"

Kreacher popped into existence and started preparing breakfast for Snape. 

"Hah," chuckled Potter loudly. "He was livid. Yelled at me for not consulting him about what I should and shouldn't reveal first. As if I need his consultation. Or another master to please or die, for that matter." Harry siped from his cup and took a bite of a sandwich. "I reminded him of the situation we're all in, we draw the likely course of action for the nearest foreseeable future, discussed a few other things — do not plan anything on Monday afternoon, by the way, they need us for an official interview about Malfoy's murder — talked about Draco's trial — would you testify? — then I broke up, sort of, with Ginny, made an interesting discovery, and got yelled at again, this time by Ron, though. How was your evening? Did you explain to Draco that those books in my study are locked up for a reason and that kids should not play with them, or do I need to repeat that conversation with him?"

Severus stared at his colleague for nearly half a minute with his eyebrows raised. Kreacher placed several plates before him, but they were ignored. 

"Could we get back to all this later? I have a meeting with Belcher at nine." 

Harry eyed him for a moment and shrugged. "Sure," he said, sipping his coffee. Snape grabbed a fork and took a few bites of his scrambled eggs, then froze. The two men stared at each other for several seconds. 

"Severus, do us both a favor and just spill it out."

Snape quirked an eyebrow questioningly. Harry mirrored the gesture. Another minute went in silence. 

"There's nothing to spill, Harry," said Snape and continued eating calmly. Potter watched him for about five minutes, but the man didn't lift his eyes from his plate.

"You're radiating nervousness, Severus. Something clearly happened, and I just wanted to make sure you're okay. As a friend," finally said Potter and got up. Stunned by the last statement, Snape froze with his fork halfway up. He furrowed his brows and sighed, preparing to say something, but Harry already left the kitchen. 

_"Could it be all there is to it?"_ mused Severus on his way to the fireplace in the drawing-room at fifteen-to-nine. _"Even if Harry is a true Slytherin, he's a Gryffindor too. He spent years pretending to be one. And was disgustingly successful — fooled us all —"_

“Headmaster's office, Hogwarts," called Severus and stepped into the green flames. 

_"…And his parents were both Gryffindors to their bones. There's no way they didn't leave him a few character traits."_

"Merlin, why everything is always so bloody complicated…" murmured Snape under his breath. 

"Because it's life," replied one of the portraits. Severus turned to look in the direction of the familiar voice, nodded his greeting to Black, and sat down behind his desk. There was virtually nothing to do since all the paperwork was completed yesterday, therefore Snape decided to make use of the remaining time and meditate, especially knowing that he skipped yesterday's session and exercises altogether, going straight to sleep.

Precisely at nine o'clock, he sensed that someone moved past the gargoyle and dove out of his mindless floating, straightening up on his chair.

— - ♦ - —

After exiting the kitchen, Harry went upstairs, lost in thoughts. There clearly was something wrong. Severus acted oddly. Too odd for it to be chalked to his usual uneasiness and anxiety around other people, especially around Harry.

But what could possibly happen in less than a day? Yesterday morning everything was alright. Potter started to revise the day hour by hour. The staff meeting… Could it be Belcher? No, not likely. As sad as it might be, Severus Snape was used to death as much as Harry was.

Then what?

Potter pushed the door to his study open. And suddenly he remembered. Snape went to his office at Hogwarts yesterday. _Bloody portrait._ He must've said something.

Harry took a deep breath and looked down at the letters on his desk. He'll deal with Dumbledore later. Potter skimmed through his reply to Dudley and sat down to continue writing but changed his mind. Why bother with letters if he could just talk to the boy in person? It would be much easier, not to mention faster.

So Harry swiftly stood up and went out of the house, noting that Severus still sat in the kitchen still as a statue. _Bloody fucking Dumbledore._ Must he always screw things up?

Quietly seething, Potter stepped outside. The weather was foul and unwelcome. Thick clouds covered the sky, chilly wind blew leafage of nearby trees and bushes, scattering junk around, swirling dust on the roads. Harry stopped in his tracks. A storm was coming. And his shoulder started to throb… Not a good sign. Not at all. Deciding to embrace the inevitable, he apparited to the Private drive.

Dudley lay on the bed in his room, staring at the ceiling. He refused to leave the house because Harry's reply could arrive at any minute and Dudley didn't want to miss it. He didn't expect himself to be so nervous about it either… Why was he so nervous?

A quiet cough startled Dudley so badly, he nearly fell off the bed. Hastily sitting up, Dursley noticed the very person he wished to speak to. Harry stood in the room, leaning on the closed door with his arms crossed on his chest.

"So, Big D, I'm here. I believe you wanted to talk."

"Y-Yeah…" stammered Dudley, gawking at his cousin. "You look different."

"You think?" replied Harry, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

"Yeah."

After a full minute of silence, Potter sighed and went further into the room, pulled a chair out, and sat down, facing his dumb-ass cousin. "What happened to your arm Dudley?" he asked, growing tired of waiting. Judging by the letter, Harry already had a pretty good idea of what exactly happened.

"N-Nothing…" replied Dudley and dropped his eyes on the floor, suddenly afraid that Harry would press the matter. Or just generally afraid of Harry, he couldn't tell. But Potter ignored it altogether, boring an intense heavy gaze at his cousin, keeping silent.

Dudley felt his skin prickle and his heart race under the scrutiny. Terrified, he wasn't able to utter a word. On the verge of a panic attack, he slammed his eyes shut and froze.

 _What the hell was wrong with him?!_ It's just Harry. Yes, a fairly different one, but still Harry. He didn't harm Dudley back then, so he surely wouldn't do it now. Taking a deep breath, Dursley tried to pull himself together and then opened his eyes.

"Sorry…" he mumbled. Harry nodded.

"Don't worry, Dudders, happens with everyone," said Potter reassuringly, though, he certainly didn't look like it.

And then it struck Dudley… He was a big part of why Harry grew up to be so cold and indifferent, and he abruptly found himself talking non-stop: explaining, apologizing, and apologizing again.

Potter listened to the nearly incoherent blabbing of his cousin in silence. Well, he tried to listen. It was hard to do, considering the speed of the words. But Harry got the gist of it nonetheless. Did the boy really think himself such a villain?

"Dudley," Harry tried to interrupt. The Dursley kept talking. 

"Dudley!" Potter yelled. _That_ got his attention. Dursley froze again with his mouth comically open. 

"Stop yelling!" he hissed. "Why are you yelling? My parents will hear you!"

Potter smirked. "No, they won't. I took care of it, don't worry. There's a silencing spell on your room. They won't hear a damn thing."

Dudley’s eyes widened for a second and he nodded. 

"Now," continued Harry. "About your incessant apologizing. Don't worry about it either. It's alright. You were just a brainless kid who did as his parents showed him. Do you think I don't understand that?" Potter paused to let his words sink in. "But now you're a grown man, Dudley, people will hold you to the different standards. Don't screw that up."

"Yes, I know. I won't, promise. If I do, Amy will kill me," chuckled Dudley. 

"Amy? Not Amy Berry by any chance?"

Potter knew of only one Amy who could be known to his cousin. A muggle-born whose family resided in the same safe house last year as the Dursleys — at Dingle's house. 

"U-uh… Yeah, that's her. Do you remember her? Of course, you do."

"Dudley, are you dating a witch?" exclaimed Harry, leaning forward.

Dursley went red. "I… I… I am, yes," he smiled. "She's amazing! Despite the fact that she's constantly talking about you." 

That statement made Harry laugh. Who would've thought… Everything indeed wasn't lost on that boy.

The two of them started talking about Dudley’s relationship with the blond Hufflepuff, then the conversation slowly turned to the Dursley Seniors, their divorce, and the general atmosphere in the house.

"It's so awful here these days…" complained Dudley. "I'm trying to stay away as much as possible. They're constantly screaming at each other. I'm thinking of leaving the damn house and maybe renting some small place with Amy. Maybe even in your world. She's of age there already, and I'm gonna be soon too. I could find a job and —"

"You need to find a college, Dudley, not a job. If you want to have a decent future with your Amy. And you need to allow her to finish her education as well. The next two years will be the most important for her."

"But she missed her sixth year altogether…" drawled Dudley. 

"Many students missed it. That's why we decided that last year will be repeated. Amy will have a chance to go back to school for her sixth and seventh years with all her classmates," explained Harry.

"Will you be going back too?" asked Dudley, fidgeting nervously.

"Yes, I will. I thought you read the article… I'm a new Defense Professor."

Dudley blushed. "Sorry! I just… I forgot. Congrats, by the way," he smiled weakly. "So you think I should stay here and endure the torture?"

As soon as those words slipped his mouth, Dudley realized their meaning and his eyes bulged. He did not intend to remind about torture to Harry who knew a great deal more about it than Dudley ever would. 

Potter frowned at his cousin's strange behavior but quickly caught up and laughed again.

"I'm not saying you should stay here, I'm saying —"

At that moment a raven made of blinding white light fluttered in through the window, startling Dudley. 

"Hagrid found a body. Get to the gates," said the strange bird in a deep man's voice before disappearing in a whirl.

"Sorry, Dudders, need to go. I'll come by another time," said Harry, sighing, and vanished in a blink of an eye. 

— - ♦ - —

**_Headmaster's office, earlier at 9 o'clock_ **

There was a sharp knock on the door. 

"Enter," called Severus. 

Belcher walked in looking like she hadn't slept a minute last night, but otherwise fine.

"Amanda," greeted Severus, standing up. "Please, take a seat." 

"Good morning, Headmaster."

They both sat down. 

"You may call me Severus. As Minerva pointed out, we're all on a first-name basis here. Helps with the atmosphere." 

Belcher dipped her head in agreement. "Of course, Severus." 

"Would you like some tea?"

"Uh… No, thank you."

Severus leaned back, observing the young woman for a moment. She was sitting ramrod straight and still, looking at his face but not in the eyes, as she always did as a student. Clearly nervous to be in one room with him.

"Now, there are quite a few things that we should discuss. First of all, your curriculum. In your interview, you mentioned that you already have it. I'd like to see it, and then we'll discuss the possible changes if they are required. Do you have it now on your person?"

Amanda took the shrunken scroll of parchment out of her small bag, returned it to its original size, and placed it on the desk. 

"Good. I'll look through it in the next few days and send it back to you with comments," said Severus, shifting through parchments. 

"Sure."

"Now, I can see that your plans start with the third year. There's an idea of making the Muggle studies one of the core subjects. Do you think you could rewrite everything according to that?" asked Snape, putting the notes aside and steepling his fingers under his chin. Amanda's eyes widened.

"I… I don't know. Yes, why not."

"If you won't be able to do it until this September, it's fine, we'll make this change starting the next school year but it would be great to begin this year. It would be far easier to convince both the Board of Governors and students now when the memories of the war are still fresh. I'll note my suggestions in the comments if it would help but you're free to make your own changes, ignoring me, for as long as it makes sense, of course."

"Understood," nodded Belcher. "Thank you."

Half a minute passed in silence, while Severus waited for Amanda to blab enthusiastically about the positive changes such a decision would make, but she kept quiet.

"Next. As this year will start with an exam of the last year's curriculum, it was decided that we'll have to begin the year a week early to allow all professors time to look through the results and make necessary adjustments. I expect you here at least two days earlier to settle in your rooms and prepare for the exams."

Belcher blushed and dropped her gaze, which made Severus raise an eyebrow. "Would it be possible to move in earlier?" asked the woman, smiling sheepishly. 

"How much earlier?" 

"Uum… Like, today?" 

Surprised, Snape raised a second eyebrow to match the first, and Amanda hurried to explain: "You see, it turned out that I have some difficulties with my living arrangements this summer and I thought that maybe instead of searching for a place for only three months, I could stay here. I can pay rent or something if you want."

Snape thought for a moment. The request wasn't unprecedented, per se, and usually, Dumbledore had no qualms with allowing staff members to reside in the castle for the whole year-round, but this time it wasn't welcome. With half of the Board in Azkaban, the amount of their annual donations was also half-short, and he and Minerva were barely managing to keep things going as it was. On the other hand, if Belcher were to help Argus and Rubius, they would undoubtedly leave for their vacations earlier, and it's not like she's going to eat for the whole house. Plus if he allowed her to stay, it would earn him additional points with the rest of the staff. 

"Well, usually for the summer stayed only the caretaker and the groundkeeper. But you may stay this time as well, on the condition that you'll help Filch and Hagrid on occasion, no rent needed. Just remember that your main goal is to prepare the extended curriculum."

Amanda's eyes sparkled with gratitude. "Thank you so much! I'll be the best assistant, you'll see," she smiled. 

Severus smirked. "Make sure they won't work you too hard, you have your own task, which is much more important. Those two can do their jobs perfectly fine without help, they were doing them for longer than you were alive, as a matter of fact," he pointed out one more time, just in case. You never know with those dunderheads. 

Belcher nodded, smiling." Is there anything else?"

"Yes. I'd like to see the questions for the start-of-term exams on my desk a week before the students' arrival."

"Sure thing, Headmaster."

"And one more thing. If the governors approve, Hogwarts will have a new staff position," began Severus cautiously. 

"Which is?" asked Amanda, unperturbed. 

"Either a Psychologist or a Mind-healer." The woman's smile dimmed, as she started to understand where Snape was heading with it. "You see, many students, especially those who fought in the battle, are bound to have PTSD in some form. It's our duty to help them. All staff members are free to seek their help as well if needed."

Severus stopped talking, looking meaningfully into Amanda's eyes, hoping that she'd take the hint and make the right conclusions, so he wouldn't need to make soul-searching conversations with her.

But luck continued to be an evasive bitch.

Belcher thought for several moments, then swallowed hard, and looking as a deer in the headlights, asked:

"You… You want me to visit a psychologist?" 

_"No, I don't give a shit what you do…"_ flashed through Snape's mind. "I want you to consider the possibility. You have to admit, it would do you a world of good. Comes September, you should be able to help your students to put their past behind them, but you need to help yourself to do exactly that first."

Amanda nodded and took a deep breath. "I overreacted a tad yesterday, haven't I?" she whispered. "I shouldn't have yelled at Harry. It's not his fault that people died during the war. He did his best."

"Precisely."

Severus was mulling over if he should say something else on the matter when his thoughts were interrupted by the sharp tapping on the window. 

"Uh, allow me," said Belcher, stood up, and let the owl in. The small brown bird made a beeline to the headmaster and stuck out its paw. As soon as Severus took the note off, it flew away without a backward glance. Snape followed it with his gaze and then dropped his eyes to the small piece of parchment with Hagrid's nearly unintelligible scribbles on it. 

And felt his blood rushing away from his face.

Before he even knew, Severus was running toward the front gates, somewhere in the background of his mind aware of Belcher stumbling behind him in panic.

As an afterthought, he realized that he shouldn't have allowed her to follow him. Too late, though.

Five minutes later, both of them ran out of the castle into the bright sunny day, panting. Hagrid stood near the entrance, waiting. 

"Where… is… it?" asked Snape, trying to catch a breath.

"Jus' outside the gates, Headmaster," pointed Hagrid. "Walked outta the forest, saw it, and wrote ter yeh at once. I'll show yeh."

And they slowly made their way toward the edge of the grounds. Severus had a bad feeling about this. Very bad… He needed to contact Harry and get rid of Belcher who still was trailing behind him. He stopped and turned to his professors. 

"Amanda, would you mind going back to my office to floo Kingsley Shacklebolt? The only working fireplace is in there, and I'm afraid we're going to need the ministry's intervention. Summon the minister here. Hagrid, accompany her. Explain the situation to him, so he'd be able to act accordingly."

"Sure thing, Severus," smiled Hagrid and dragged Belcher away by her elbow. 

As soon as they departed, Snape started jogging again, conjuring his Patronus on the way to send Harry a message. At this rate, he'd really need to ask Potter to teach him that mind-message thing of his.

A minute later, both of them stood at the gates with their arms clasped behind their backs, looking dumbfoundedly at the maimed beyond recognition corpse that lay on the fresh grass with its limbs sprawled all at the wrong strange angles.

"Well…" drawled Potter. "I can tell you four things: it used to be a muggle man, he was tortured before and after he was killed, he's not dead for very long, and the whole thing is clearly a message."

"It seems that way, yes," stated Snape. "I send Belcher to contact Shacklebolt."

"Good. I've no wish to deal with corpses today."

"It's them, isn't it?" asked Severus, blinking. "Should we tell Kingsley?" 

"I don't think it would be wise to make a target of the first useful minister of magic we have since God knows when," replied Harry, not tearing his eyes from the figure on the ground. 

"Agreed," said Severus. "Any thoughts on the nature of the message?"

"Um…" Harry scratched his head thoughtfully. "I wish I knew… You?"

Severus turned his head to the left to look at his younger companion who looked back at him. 

"It just doesn't make any sense," said Snape after a long moment, turning away again. "All of it."

Harry didn't get to reply. He opened his mouth to say something but at that moment they heard multiple pops of apparition.

"What the hell happened here?" boomed Kingsley's voice. He and two men in auror uniform (a tall scrawny blond and a shorter bulky one with brown hair) hastily strode toward the body. "Aurors Duncan and McTavish," introduced Shacklebolt as an afterthought.

"Severus Snape. Harry Potter," stated Severus in reply pointing first at himself, then at his Defense professor.

"Yeah, yeah, we know," drawled Duncan, leisurely waving his hand.

Kingsley glanced at the blond in annoyance. "Did you take a look at him?" he asked Potter instead. 

"There's nothing to look at, really. Th —" 

"Except for the body," chuckled Duncan. Harry threw a dark glance at the man.

"As I was saying, the victim was a muggle. There are no magical traces on him, though, so I assume that either his killers were incredibly good at cleaning up after themselves or he was tortured, and killed, and then tortured again the muggle way in the non-magical environment."

"What the hell are you on about?" exclaimed Duncan, and this time even his partner started to boil. "What environment?"

Potter sighed. "Non-magical. You know, a place where there's no magic," repeated Harry, raising one eyebrow. "Anyway, it's your job, guys, not ours, so… If that is all, I have places to be," he nodded toward the bewildered minister of magic and two Aurors, then turned to Snape: "Headmaster, I believe we were in the middle of an important discussion?" 

"Yes, yes, we were." Severus snapped out of his reverie. "We should get back to my office. Gentlemen," he bowed his head a little. "If you need anything, I'm at your disposal."

The two of them slowly started their track back to the castle.

"Don't leave the grounds!" shouted McTavish after several moments, remembering himself. "We'll need your statements!" 

"Fine!" yelled Harry not even turning around.

The Auror Office was full of fools.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, what do you think?  
> Please, be so kind and share your opinion!  
> It will be most helpful, plus it'll make me feel better :)


End file.
